


Seeking Your Warmth If Only For A Day

by candlelight27



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: @Galamix betaed this, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Attempted Assault, Betaed, Betaed from chapter 3, Blood, Claude von Riegan is a Little Shit, College, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, French Kissing, Glenn Fraldarius Lives, Halloween Costumes, Kissing, Male My Unit | Byleth, Minor Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Minor Violence, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Party, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Slow Burn, Smut, Swear Words, Texting, cursing, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:28:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26606752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candlelight27/pseuds/candlelight27
Summary: Sylvain has been ignoring you since you met him. You had been in love with him since you met him. College is about to offer you a fresh start. New academic year, new life. You were ready to forget him. But fate seems to have other plans...
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier/Reader
Comments: 25
Kudos: 95





	1. The Call Of Yesterday

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, my aim is not for this College AU to be faithful to reality, but to incarnate my own college fantasy. Now everything's clear!  
> Remember I'm not an English native speaker so beware. Also, note that I'm very unconsistent with my posting. I've never finished a series. You've been warned. I'm very excited though, and I hope that this will be my first finished series. The tags will be updated with each chapter because I know where this is going but I often betray myself. Just, no big warning will be added. No non-con, no major character death, no underage, that much I can guarantee. There might be violence but in dreams.  
> Last but not least, if you want to be my beta reader (or my friend) you can write me on my tumblr -candlelight27-, It's quite dead now but hopefully I'll revive it. More comments at the end! Enjoy!

“This is going to be my year”, you told yourself as you got ready for your first day of university. You were brushing your hair and styling it the way Dorothea suggested, since she always knew what would suit everyone’s features. You wanted to be perfect because that was going to be a special day.

Your mind wandered off into the days you spent in Garreg Mach High School. You smiled softly at the reminiscence, since some of the most beautiful memories you harboured took place there, between those cherished halls. Prom night, summer, the sports club... You were going to miss that time, but you had to move on.

For that matter, it was about time you moved on from a certain thorn in your heart. One that had been bothering you for years. Of course, that thorn had a name, a middle name, and a surname, all too well known to everyone at Garreg Mach.

Sylvain Jose Gautier.

Your own particular unrequited love story.

Your crush on him was kept a secret throughout all high school, naturally. How could it not be? You had fell for the most renowned womanizer of your year – probably the most renowned womanizer of the whole history of your school. He was handsome, he was intelligent, he was nonchalant and carefree, yes, but he also was an asshole, and you didn’t want your friends acknowledging the fact that you had fell fully for his tricks. However, there was something quite worse than falling for the corny clichés and shameless lines Sylvain constantly used. Something far worse than melting with his every word and dying to be the girls whose cheeks he made blush. And infinitely worse than spending all your breaks trying to catch a glance of his fiery hair around the corners of the building.

The thing is that Sylvain had never spared a second glance to you. He hadn’t even tried to flirt you, unlike he did with the whole female community.

That complete banishment was what mortified you the most in your romantic ordeal.

You remembered that time Ingrid introduced you to her childhood friends, Dimitri, Felix and Sylvain. They had gone to the field to cheer her during a football match of your high school team. You had heard of them before and saw them often on the corridors, but you had never crossed a word with any of them, as they were in Ingrid’s class and not yours. You were quite excited to finally talk to Sylvain, for you had been looking at him in the distance ever since Ingrid started telling you stories about him. Yet while your heart pounced like a runaway horse, he only muttered a ‘hi’ and disappeared into thin air.

“Apologise our friend. He’s always off to chase skirts, it’s nothing personal”, tried to explain Dimitri, ever the gentleman.

The next few times you met him, he merely pronounced monosyllables to your efforts of striking up a conversation. Even Ingrid commented on how dry his behaviour was when you were there. How could love appear out of nowhere? It was probably the stupidity of puberty. But your desire was out of control and you couldn’t help going back to him. To those light brown eyes that seemed to melt your heart…

But it was all water under the bridge. You grew up. That silly attraction ongoing for years was going to meet its end with your fresh start at university. Your teenage love was gone with the wind.

You had all summer to psych yourself up and forget him. So far so good. No nigh-time fantasies to keep suffering, no fateful encounters to revive the forgotten flame, nothing to remind you of Sylvain.

You even went on a date with Ferdinand, something completely new for you. It was Dorothea, always meddling in your love life, who had set you up with him when she wormed out of you that you liked redheads. She was convinced your lifelong crush was Ferdinand, because you had been on the same class since you were kids. After such a pompous announce of your date with him, you almost felt bad for your brunette friend as you told her how horribly wrong your date was, but in the end you both laughed about it.

So, yes. You were indeed free from the fetters that Sylvain had bounded without realizing. Or so you thought. You didn’t want to think about that small trace of doubt that told you it would all be in vain the second you see him again after summer break.

“This is going to be my year…”, you repeated out loud as a chant while you gathered your things for your lessons.

“Are you ready?”, asked Ingrid from another room. She was now your flatmate, on one hand because a sudden friendship had bloomed during the holidays, on the other hand because Dorothea was stuck with a new exchange student, Petra, and Mercedes couldn’t be separated from Annette, so you both ended up alone and it seemed the obvious solution. You didn’t complain, you liked her company and things were working just fine.

“Yes!”, you answered and joined her in the entrance, rucksack on your back and phone on your hand.

Her blonde hair was tied neatly in a long braid and her clothes were comfortable yet formal, just like her usual self. She seemed excited for the fresh start, too, as she rushed to talk about the upcoming lessons.

You left the student’s residence, following a couple of groups of people you didn’t know. It was a sunny morning, thus the beams of light shone right though the leaves, already changing their colours at autumn’s pace. While you walked, Ingrid was checking her phone for new messages.

“Are you talking to the guys?”, you asked as you wondered about Sylvain’s schedule in silence – not that you were interested, you wanted to make sure you avoided him –. You didn’t want to be too straightforward, because even the most oblivious person, Ingrid in this case, would notice there was something going on if you were too invested in his affairs, so you were cautious.

“Oh, right now I’m talking to Ashe.” She smiled, still typing. You raised your eyebrows.

“I thought you weren’t that close to him.”

“He’s attending all my lessons so I’m checking a few things with him”, she answered. You nodded and checked your own phone.

**Dorothea (08:45): I’m waiting for you on Anna’s Café.**

**Dorothea (08:45): HURRY UP YOU ARE SLOWER THAN MY GRANNY**

“Dorothea’s waiting ahead for us”, you commented.

“Who are you sharing lessons with?”, Ingrid questioned, putting her phone away in her pocket. You hadn’t seen her so interested in the machine ever – you’d have to figure out if it was Ashe’s fault.

“I’m not sure!”, you said. “I think I’m sharing subjects with some of the Golden Deers… Marianne, Lysithea, Claude… Also, Mercedes and Bernadetta.” You weren’t that close to any of them in particular. You sometimes hoped you had closer friends with you, but at least it was a good opportunity to become closer to new people.

“That’s quite the group! All the houses of Garreg Mach mixed!”, the blonde exclaimed. She was right, it was going to be quite the sight – and an exciting adventure, too, you supposed. “Yesterday Sylvain told me he’s going to be in my first lesson today along with Felix, and on some other ones. But the ones who got the same itinerary as me are Dimitry and Ashe, so I’m going to see them often.” She made a pause, as if imagining the future. You, on the other hand, were delighted to hear you weren’t going to share classes with Sylvain. “Leonie and Edelgard have chosen that itinerary too –”

“Hello!” Dorothea sprang to you, dressed in the latest trend, as always. Her smile was radiant.

“Hi, Dorothea! We were talking about who’s on our classes”, commented Ingrid.

“I’m with Hilda! I was hoping some handsome boys would be on my classes but Hilda said she did the research and was quite disappointed.” Dorothea sighed but suddenly called your name. “Claude is in your class, right?” You nodded with caution. “Didn’t you get along with Claude?” You nodded again, furrowing your brows in suspicion. “You could ask him out!”

Ingrid started laughing while Dorothea’s voice was a sweet giggle.

“Playing the matchmaker again, Dorothea?” Ingrid tried to calm herself. “Last time, it was a disaster.”

“Yes, sorry for that”, offered Dorothea.

“Don’t sweat it”, you said, shaking your head humorously.

“But”, the singer wasn’t one to let things go, “he’s actually very hot. Everyone with eyes can see that. And he’s really easy going, unlike Ferdinand. And smart! You must have a lot in common –”

“I’m fine.” You had repeated the same many times. Your friends were trying to set you up on dates lately. “I can manage myself pretty well.”

“You could use a little stress relief though…” Ingrid blushed this time hearing Dorothea’s words. Noticing the silence, the brunette continued. “This goes for you too, Ingrid!”

“That’s not true!”

“Anyways, where’s Petra?” You tried to divert her attention as you were approaching your building.

“She had to sign some documents, so she must be in the main office,” informed Dorothea with a bright smile, her good mood contagious.

“I want to meet her”, said Ingrid, who hadn’t moved yet when you all were acquainted with the student from Brigid. You hadn’t shared more than a few greetings, but she was getting really close to her flatmate.

“We are going to throw a party at my house next week or the other!”, Dorothea announced with excitement. “If you don’t bump into her before, you’ll get to know here there.”

Even though you knew Dorothea’s parties tended to get out of hand, they were always fun, and it could be a great start for something new. You would have to work hard to convince Ingrid, who didn’t like going out that much.

And like that, you reached your destination and parted from them.

The halls of the place where you’d spend your next course studying were filled with students. All seemed to be trying to find the right way to their new classrooms. Chatter filled the air as you read the indications on your phone. It was confusing finding your way in the intricate web of corridors and doors.

“Where is room 122?”, you muttered and chewed your lip.

You found the room 121, but room 122 wasn’t nowhere in sight. You looked at the map, and figured it had to be around the next corner, so you kept walking to the direction you thought was right. You saw your phone, and it was almost 9 a.m., so you increased your rhythm. Then, you turned left.

Only to bump into someone. More specifically, someone’s chest.

You were quite confused as you fell on your butt and your backpack flew. Your bottom ached. Disoriented, you let out a faint ‘sorry’, but you were not sure to who it was directed. When you processed the situation, and that you were indeed going to be late on your very first day of university, you lifted your glance with the intention of getting up fast and entering your classroom.

Yet light brown eyes that seemed to melt your heart stared back at you.

“Are you all right?” The question was announced by a smooth, rich voice.

It was Sylvain.

Shit.

You felt a rush of nervousness that run all over your body. You tried articulating a sentence, a word, anything to play it off cool, but your tongue didn’t respond, so you simply nodded. You weren’t okay, but he didn’t need to know that. Sylvain seemed quite surprised. His luscious lips were parted slightly, his pupils were fixed on you, and he remained as still as a statue, which only added to your agitation. At last, as if he was awakened from a trance, he rose his eyebrows and extended his hand.

“Sorry, let me help you.”

You grabbed your rucksack and took his hand. It was warm, soft, and strong. Sylvain helped you up and you could see you were right in front of your classroom.

“I have to… go to my first lesson”, you said as you pointed at the door.

“Oh, yes. Me too”, he flashed you an award-winning smile of his, totally recomposed of the mishap. “I think we share itineraries.”

“I thought you were… with Felix. And Ingrid,” you said. Inside of you, your thoughts were rioting. This couldn’t be true, you repeated yourself over and over. Half of you was trying to stay calm and affirm yourself that your stupid crush was over. The other half was sheltering some kind of hope you didn’t have time to identify. What was clear was that the redhead managed to break all of your expectations once again and you didn’t like it one bit. Of course, you put on a blank face, totally disconnected from your real feelings.

“Yes, right. I switched itineraries this morning”, he extended his hand and hold the doorknob. “My father signed me up for the one he wanted without any kind of regard to what I wanted in life… So, yeah, thankfully I had time to change everything before it was too late.” He opened the door for you.

“That’s… nice”, you smiled timidly.

“We’ll see each other often, then.” You entered the lecture room and Sylvain walked behind. It was big and spacious, and it was full of students. But at that time, it was as if only Sylvain existed. You’d have to get used to his presence in your lessons. A new challenge, but you were going to ignore him anyways.

Sylvain bid you farewell with a ‘see you’ and took a seat next to Mercedes.

You looked around to see where you could see. You saw a smiling Claude waving at you, right next to Lysithea and Marianne, and making gestures for you to come closer. “Sit with us!”, you barely understood what he said with all the chatter in the room, but his body language left no doubt.

“Hi!”, exclaimed Lysithea, looking cheerful and determined as always. Marianne looked collected and waved her hand. They both seemed much more mature after summer break.

“I’m glad to see you here! Just in time.” Claude moved his books in order to make some room for you at his side. You took the seat and settled there.

“Nice to see some familiar faces here”, you told the Almyran.

“I wonder what this year has in store for us…”, he continued, but he couldn’t finish the rest.

A young professor appeared. He looked like another student, but you could sense the authoritarian aura around him. His short hair was dark blue, and he wore black clothes. This new face sparked your curiosity, and although you were dying to turn your head and see what Sylvain was doing, you forced yourself our of your own trap. ‘Focus! You’re here to study, dammit!’, you chastised yourself.

“My name is Byleth and I’m going to teach ‘Fódlan’s history and culture’”, started the new professor.

Then, Byleth proceeded to give a long, detailed, and boring speech about the bureaucratic minutiae related his subject. It was completely tedious. He went over percentages, grading systems, schedules, credits and so on. He was really testing your will at not being distracted.

Rather than yielding to temptation, you turned around to see what Claude was doing. He was stretching like a cat and yawning. When he realised you were looking at him, he winked at you. You weren’t expecting it, so you nervously smirked and looked elsewhere. You swore it was a coincidence that your glance just happened to fall upon the infamous womanizer of Garreg Mach.

Unexpectedly, your eyes met with Sylvain’s. You decided your safest option was looking at your professor and finally paying attention.

What was happening that disastrous day? The Goddess herself must have been punishing you. You felt like you lost a war to your heart. You thought you had finished the chapter where all you did was thinking about Sylvain, you were going to date someone else, maybe fall in love and, above all, you were going to avoid returning to those years head over heels for someone who didn’t even know your name – or at least you supposed so, since he had never said it. Instead of the sensible thing, your whole being decided to betray your will, and you were all flushed and flustered with a single look of that man. It didn’t matter it was the first time he paid attention to you or that your longest conversation had been held that very same day. It didn’t matter to your dumb heart, which-

“This project will be done in pairs and it’s about the 25-30% of the final grade.” Oh, you might have wanted to pay attention to that, now that Byleth was saying something quite important.

“What did he say?”, you asked Claude.

“Too busy giving Sylvain the eye?”, he remarked, a satisfied smirk on the side of his face.

“Claude!”, you tried to scold him, but as you were whispering, it sounded like a high-pitched yell of guilt. Just like your feelings.

“Okay, okay. No need to get your knickers in a twist”, he couldn’t resist teasing you. “There’s this big project, 30% of the final grade or so. We have to research a topic he will give.” He sighed. “The professor also added that he’s going to assign the partners. I know it’s for our own good, for the sake of team working and all that boring paraphernalia, but it kind of sucks.”

“Maybe we’ll be lucky and we will be able to work together”, you tried to look at the bright side.

“As much as I’d love that, I think it’d be far more interesting if you got paired with someone else we know…”, he trailed off, testing the waters.

“I don’t know what you are talking about”, you sentenced.

“I’m not a fool. I know you’ve liked him since high school”. That, you weren’t expecting it. You hadn’t been exactly secretive with your longing staring, but you hadn’t been expecting the master of gossip to be after your very own secret. “Don’t make that face. I didn’t tell anyone, but you can’t fool me.”

“Just don’t tell Dorothea or I’m not going to hear the end of it”, you surrendered and pleaded. What was the use of hiding it longer? Besided, Claude made you feel comfortable and you though that he might be the right person to help you.

“Don’t worry. Just, why him?”, he wondered.

“I… It’s something beyond my control. It’s like I was condemned to love him and I can’t escape by any means. Like a force of fate is controlling me.” Now that you got to put it to word… it was the perfect description to how you felt. And you wondered how that could be.

“And how come you haven’t hooked up yet?” He laughed again at your expression of shame. “He’s Sylvain! Come on!”

“He ignored me. As in, he had never talked to me in high school”, it actually felt better than you imagined having someone to talk to. And Claude always kept quiet about other’s matters. He knew everyone’s secrets, but he never told any.

“That’s… weird. I will investigate that.” He placed his hand on his chin and his expression turned meditative. “He seems interested in you now, tough.”

“What do you mean?”, you couldn’t believe him. But something told you that it must be true if it was Claude who noticed it.

“He’s been looking at you for 40 minutes.”

You turned around and, in effect, Sylvain was looking at you. This time, it was him who moved away his gaze, a bit embarrassed to have been caught.

“So, from what I’ve seen,” Claude started to sum up, “you are trying to ignore him – don’t deny it, I’ve seen you stealing glances – because he had rejected you all high school. But now he’s flirty and charming, so you are on square one.”

“Yes, you could say so.” You were ashamed, but eager to see where he was going.

“There’s only one solution.” He moved his head closer to you, as if it was a conspiration.

“What is it?” He decidedly had captured you then, and you moved your head closer to hear him better.

“Play it along. See what happens. Don’t implicate yourself too much, but find out what changed.”

Right before you could answer, Lysithea shushed you. The professor was beginning to announce the pairs. As expected, most of your friends ended up with an unknown partner. Marianne was lucky and was set to work with Mercedes, one of the sweetest girls you knew. Bernadetta, who you hadn’t noticed until that moment, was paired with a girl called Monica, who seemed eerily familiar. Your name hadn’t been said, and neither did Sylvain’s, much to Claude’s delight.

After a long list of surnames, you didn’t recognise, it was your turn. While your name left your professors lips, your eyes widened. You raised your hand so Byleth could identify you with the name.

“Okay. There. Your partner will be…”, he was scanning the remaining names, for the list was almost finished. “Sylvain Jose Gautier.”

“Fate has decided for you”, Claude commented. You looked at Sylvain, and he had the audacity to smirk and wink at you. Outrageous.

You were then sure of it. Sothis was laughing at you. How were you supposed to survive this year?


	2. Reach For My Hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about taking too long! I wrote it, then thought it was boring, then wrote it again and edited until I got something I kinda liked. I hope you enjoy!

Your first week of university had passed all at once. Time flew between jotting down notes, going back and forth, meeting all your new teachers and, overall, trying to survive. Thankfully, Lysithea had shared all her notes with you, so you weren’t that lost – since Claude was keen on gossiping with you in the middle of lessons…

…And since Sylvain proved himself to be a huge distraction. And an active one, in fact.

The ominous day Byleth paired you with him, Sylvain had approached you after class. Hands in his pockets, his chest a little puffed and a glamorous grin on his face, he had the perfect pose to be on the cover of a teenage magazine. And with his casual tone, he nonchalantly asked you for your number.. 

“We better stay in touch to finish the project”, he added. Your heart skipped a beat – or two or three – and you nodded. You hoped that excitement would go unnoticed. There was the slightest shyness in his voice, but you discarded the thought. It was absurd to consider you’d awaken even the smallest amount of insecurity in him, regarding the fact that he was the embodiment of confidence.

“Sure”, you smiled and grabbed a pen. Sylvain stopped you muttering a ‘wait’ and took out his phone. He opened a tab for a new contact.

“Here, write your number.” You took it and started writing. Then, it hit you that Sylvain actually knew how you were called. He had edited the blank space, where you saw all the letters that spelt your name standing triumphantly. He even had added a heart emoji next to it. So, even if he had never acknowledged your existence, he was aware of it. 

“Write me whenever you feel like it,” he said with a wink. Your name rolling out of his lips was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard.

As he went away and followed Mercedes out of the classroom, Claude rose his eyebrows.

“Well, that went better than expected. Our plan is running smoothly,” he hit you with his elbow.

“Your plan, Claude. I never agreed to it,” you sighed, while he just chuckled and let it be.

But that wasn’t the end of the phone matter. Not at all.

The next day you met your new teacher, Catherine. She was interesting, and she made her lessons about the Evolution of Warfare quite enjoyable – which was itself a great deed, in your opinion. However, there was a downside, and it was that the blonde woman talked your ears off with her millions of tales that weren’t that interesting and definitely not exam material.

It was early and you were barely awake when you felt the light vibration of a message on your mobile phone. Who could be at that hour? You looked next to you. Marianne was as still as a corpse, Claude was probably asleep and Lysithea was fiercely taking notes, so it was not any of them trying to be discreet. Ingrid would never use her phone during a lesson, so she was ruled out too.

With caution, you unlocked the screen of your phone and placed it on your lap.

**Unknown 09:45: Are you bored too?**

Did Dorothea change her number again?

**You 09:46: Who are you?**

**Unknown 09:46: Look right** **😊**

You did. And you came across Sylvain waving at you. You saved his number quicker than you’d like to admit.

**You 09:48: Good morning, Sylvain**

**You 09:48: And yes, I’m bored to death**

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a smile gracing Sylvain’s countenance, and you felt like a schoolgirl all over again.

**Sylvain 09:49: Is Claude asleep? For real?**

**You 09:50: Most likely…**

And that was the beginning of your academic doom.

It turned out that Sylvain was a compulsive text-writer. He wasn’t shy about sending you millions of messages at any time. And you, foolish as always, responded _every last one of them_. Against your will, as you typed on your phone, butterflies flied around your stomach.

The first days, he limited your interactions strictly to Catherine’s lessons and breaks. But as the week progressed, you found yourself going to sleep a little later just to share a few more words with the infamous flirter.

You two didn’t have meaningful conversations at all. You talked about high school, books, films, you shared jokes and silly occurrences… Yet it made you feel that an already existing connection tying you with Sylvain was awakening. It was absurd, to think there was a bond that had been formed before between both of you, but you couldn’t cast aside that sensation. Like a distant memory of a dream you once had. Like the primal needs our bodies feel. You felt there was something that linked you with him, and it was ancient and significant.

When Claude discovered what you and Sylvain were up, he was delighted.

“Don’t you realize that’s just what we needed for our plan?”, he opened his eyes and leaned in closer, so your classmates wouldn’t hear him.

“Again, your plan, Claude”, you shook your head. “And you seem to be making it up as it goes.”

“Well, that’s my charm, darling,” he laughed, and went on playing with his phone. You threw him your best deadpan look.

With so many distractions, the weekend arrived in the blink of an eye. It was rather cloudy when you woke up, and late, because it was Saturday and you didn’t have any obligation. You rolled in bed, throwing away your blanket and yawning.

Then, you heard a thud next to you. It was your phone. You remembered you had been talking with Sylvain when you fell asleep. You deliberated if maybe it wasn’t better to ignore him for a day. You were starting to get your hopes up, and you wanted to avoid another disappointment. But as if your hands moved on their own, you opened the conversation to see what you had missed.

**Sylvain 01:13: What do you mean you HAVEN’T seen Loog and the Maiden of Wind???**

**You 01:15: ??**

**You 01:15: What’s wrong?**

**Sylvain 01:17: It’s Ingrid’s favourite film!**

**Sylvain 01:18: More like, she loved complaining about how they got all the scenes from the book wrong**

**Sylvain 01:18: Still she made me watch it like 1819341973 times**

**You 01:19: She wanted me to watch it**

**You 01:20: I just happen to have really good excuses** **😉**

**Sylvain 01:25: Well you are going to watch it with me**

**You 01:26: Why would I?**

**Sylvain 01:27: It’s called solidarity**

**You 01:27: I don’t have that**

**(Unread) Sylvain 01:31:** **☹**

**(Unread) Sylvain 01:31: Please, suffer with me**

**(Unread) Sylvain 01:33: C’mon I promise I’ll be good, I won’t bite you**

**(Unread) Sylvain 01:33: Unless you ask me** **😉😉😉**

**(Unread) Sylvain 01:35: So I’m going to believe that you’re asleep and are not in fact ignoring me**

**(Unread) Sylvain 01:34: Good night, princess <3 **

You sighed and got up. What were you getting yourself into? And what were you trying to achieve? ‘ _Don’t implicate yourself too much_ ’, has said Claude, but you were already in too deep. But your friend probably knew as much and was plotting something entirely different.

Ignoring your best judgment, you started typing.

**You 09:53: Good morning!**

Goddess, you felt stupid.

“Good morning”, greeted Ingrid when you left your room. “I got some pastries for breakfast.”

“Nice.”

You sat next to her and started to munch on the first sweet piece you found. The television filled the room with a comforting background noise. You were half listening the weather and the news. Your phone suddenly beeped, indicating you had a new text message. You looked at the screen with discretion and unlocked it with an unbothered appearance, trusting Ingrid wouldn’t ask questions.

**Sylvain 10:01: I unilaterally decided we’re watching the film today, princess**

You couldn’t hide your expression, and Ingrid looked your way.

“Who are you texting?”, she tried to use a teasing tone. “I’ve never seen you so hooked on your phone. Is it Claude?”

There was no use in lying, so you’d answer thruthfully. You could even get some intel about Sylvain without revealing your game if you played your cards well.

“Oh, no. It’s Sylvain?” You feigned disinterest.

“Is he bothering you? I could scare him off,” she offered, with her eyebrows furrowed.

“What? Don’t do it.” A small and nervous laughter escaped your mouth at the idea.

“Don’t tell me he’s done it”, Ingrid said, and she rested her head on her hands, her attention focused on you.

“What has he done?”

“Charming you!”, she replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Ingrid, I was paired with him for some project. That’s all,” you assured her.

“Well, just don’t fall for him. He can be very disgusting sometimes. He’s a good friend, but he’s not a good boyfriend.” She hummed. “As far as I know, of course.”

“Don’t worry,” you smiled, appeasing, “I’ll be fine.”

“It’s weird, though. He never texts anyone on his own accord. He always says it’s a waste of time.”

“It’s for the project. No biggie,” you affirmed, yet you knew you’d have to keep in mind that fact.

“Ah, that must be it,” Ingrid shrugged. “He may be always chasing skirts, but he’s very diligent with academic matters.”

**You 10:15: I have a better idea**

**You 10:16: Let’s go to the library and start Byleth’s project**

You weren’t ready for watching a film with him. In the best-case scenario, you’d faint like Bernadetta on your high school days.

**Sylvain 10:17: The library? In this era of technology?**

**You 10:17: Yes.**

**Sylvain 10:18: Okay, fine**

**Sylvain 10:19: You are right, old-fashioned university professors love their bibliographies filled with books :/**

**Sylvain 10:19: But you owe me one film**

**You 10:19: … we’ll see.**

**You 10:19: Let’s meet at the library at 6 p.m.**

“I’m going to the library with Sylvain today,” you commented to Ingrid.

“Do you mind if I invite Ashe over?”

Well, you weren’t expecting that. You noted mentally to compare notes with Dorothea, because now you didn’t have any doubt that there was something going on between her and Ashe. Never ever had she invited a guy before that wasn’t Felix, Sylvain, or Dimitri.

“Oh, yeah, go ahead, I don’t mind,” you encouraged her.

“Cool!”

You were getting ready, mulling over what you were going to wear. You didn’t want to try too hard, this wasn’t a date, but nevertheless you wanted to look good – despite the fact that if anyone ever asked you, you’d completely refuse that thought had crossed your mind. It was absurd, but denial helped you to keep going. 

As you struggled to decide, you heard Ingrid biding you goodbye and the door being closed. You supposed she was going to meet Ashe and bring him to your place. You grinned to yourself. Immediately after, your phone started ringing. It was Dorothea. She had a distinctive melody that she sang herself for you. What on earth could have made her call you? She was the queen of voice messages.

“Yes?”, you began.

“You better tell me what the fuck is happening!”, she yelled with her usual dramatic twist.

“What is happening?” You were quite confused and tried to go over all the things she could be referring to.

“Don’t play dumb. First, Ingrid is all starry-eyed when she talks about Ashe and now you have a date with Sylvain? Is the water in your apartment poisoned?” You wondered how she found out, but Dorothea had a sixth sense for love affairs.

“Well, Ingrid is the one with an actual date,” you pointed to divert her attention. “I’m just going to the library because-”

“Because a project? Why does it sound so familiar? Ah, yes, it’s what I told my parents when I was going to make out with a classmate in high school. And don’t distract me throwing Ingrid to the wolves.”

“What do you want of me?”, you exclaimed out of frustration.

“A confession!”

“Who are you? Seteth?” You could hear Dorothea’s sweet laugh at your joke.

“How could I be so stupid? Your crush has been Sylvain all these years!”, she was creating a fuss on the other side of the phone. “I’m not going to lie, I didn’t expect that, not in the least.”

“You are assuming way too much.”

“Shut up! I guess Sylvain is a whole reason himself to keep it a secret, but you should have told me.” Dorothea made a pause. “My poor baby suffering all those years in silence! Aunty Dorothea is here to comfort you!”

“Quit the joking. Now tell me what I should wear for my not-a-date”, you said indignantly.

“Oh, right. Do you recall the Red Canyon? You definitely should put on that thing you wore. It will catch his eye, but it doesn’t seem way too elaborated.”

“Thank you, Dorothea, you are a genius. Are you reading my mind?”

“Really? I can see right through you”, she giggled. “You haven’t changed. And I would you why you are so worried about your clothes when it’s not a date, but you’d just mutter any excuse and ignore me altogether.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Now, inform me of you not-a-date with Sylvain when you’re finished right away, okay?”, she finished with her motherly intonation.

“Fine, fine! Goodbye, I have to go now!” You saw the time and it was really late.

You got dressed in a hurry and grabbed your laptop, some notebooks and a couple of pens.

By the time you arrived at the library, Sylvain was already there. He was looking around, his bag grabbed laid causally on his back, hold by the handle with his strong fist. His other hand was resting in his pocket.

While his appearance was laid back, you were a bundle of nerves. As soon as your gaze found him, you felt a knot form in your gut. You denied that the young man could have that kind of effect on you, but the evidence was overwhelming. Why did it have to be so difficult in person? It had been so easy when you didn’t have to see his face – so handsome it was unnerving. You were the opposite you had been on your telematic conversations, far from your calm, charming and charismatic charade.

He was wearing a simple long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans. It was a mystery for you why he didn’t opt for a modelling career. You forcibly reminded yourself that despite his beauty, he was a Don Juan, totally uninterested in you. You chanted Claude’s words ‘see what happens, don’t implicate yourself too much’ as you approached him.

Suddenly, his tan eyes focused on you as he recognized your figure, so you composed yourself the best you could. His lovely lips displayed a soft smile.

“Hey, Sylvain”, you greeted with an affected amiability. Still, you were tense.

“Hello there, princess.” He winked at you. “It’s nice to see you outside the classroom.”

“Yes, it’s refreshing,” you nodded.

You entered the big building with Sylvain at your side. Neither of you said anything, justifying yourself in the mandatory silence of a library. Some girls giggled as you walked past them, pointing at you two. And you noticed Sylvain looked a bit annoyed. The next thing you noticed was your teacher Catherine distracting the black-haired librarian with her nonstop chatter.

You turned your head to comment something to him, but he grinned, and you forgot your words. You simpered back, and he seemed content with that.

At last, you were in the ‘working-group’ area. The library itself was almost empty – but Dorothea told you it would be filled to the brim during finals week. There were some students chatting and taking notes, but not too many since most of the would be probably going to bars, pubs, and discos. And it was right then when it hit you that Sylvain was not in some sort of date or in a quest to gain the favours of a pretty girl.

So far, you had detected two oddities in his behaviour. Texting and spending a Saturday evening in the library. And the common factor was you.

“Where should we start?”, asked Sylvain as he took a seat, startling you since you were absorbed in your thoughts. You mimicked him and made up your mind.

“Let me think”, you said. At the same time, you took your laptop from your bag and turned it on. “Since we have to talk about the early history of Faerghus… maybe we can cover the foundation first?”, you suggested. Sylvain had a notebook and a pencil and started scribbling an outline of the project. “We’ll need… a biography of Loog. Or two. And a history book about the 8th century.” You peeked his handwriting. It was neat, with small letters. His S’s had an characteristic flourish.

“I have a good book on the Crescent Moon War, which is also a theme featured in our project”, he said, staring at his sheet. “Well... it’s Miklan’s”, Sylvain grimaced as he added that part, “but I can borrow it.”

“That’d be great.”

“Do you know what’d be great?”, he looked at you. “Watching _Loog and the Maiden of Wind_! I don’t know what you have against films. It would have been a perfect way to spend our Saturday.”

“Again?”, you laughed.

“It’s for research purposes. No fishy business here.” He placed the palm of his hand over his chest. “Scout’s honour.”

“If I accept will you focus on our project?”, you bit your lip.

“Yes! I promise.”

“Okay. How about we watch it once we’re finished?”

“It’s a deal.” He winked again, looking satisfied with himself. Then, he stood up. “I’ll look for the books we need. In the meantime, you can search on the Internet some good articles on the controversies of Loog’s biography.”

At the moment he vanished, you breathed deeply to calm your heart, since you could almost hear it thudding in your chest. This meeting had been more awkward than you had expected, at least on your part. You wondered if Sylvain was feeling it too, the rusty mechanism of two people who knew each other but had never held a whole conversation in real life.

And all the same… It didn’t feel bad, being next to Sylvain. It was great, even if you were on edge. If you didn’t know it was impossible, you’d describe that sensation as familiar. A déjà vu of some sort, as though you had gone over this stage with Sylvain a million of times and every time your pulse shot up.

You tried to concentrate on looking for articles. You found a couple of them that could be useful, singed under big names of the field that would increase the credibility of your work.

You were absentminded during the rest of your search, trying to figure out how to be natural in your next conversation with Sylvain. You were a little insecure, even when Sylvain seemed to be comfortable with you. Your head was full of what ifs. 

“I got our books!”, Sylvain announced cheerful, interrupting your worry.

He sat again next to you. And you swore he was closer than he was before. You could feel the heat emanating from him, warming your arm. And you could hear him breathing. His scent reached you. He had used just deodorant, which along with his natural smell was intoxicating. His shoulder bumped into yours in what looked like a premeditated manner.

“We could split the work. Maybe we could work together on the main structure and the final draft, and work on the information on our own…”, you said as you tried to concentrate on the pile of history volumes rather than any matter related to Sylvain. Otherwise you’d forget how to speak.

“That seems fair.”

Sylvain made himself comfortable, resting his chin on the hand opposite to you. This way he had a perfect view of what you were writing on your computer – and your face, but you refused to believe he was that interested in you. He was invading your personal space in every way and he didn’t care.

“What do you prefer?”, you asked, all professional. You weren’t going to move away.

“I don’t mind, love,” he shrugged. “What do _you_ prefer?”

“Sylvain, we are a team. You should give your opinion.” He remained silent and you dared to turn your head away from the screen of your laptop. He was smiling, but his eyes were half-close, as if figuring out what you were thinking. “Sylvain?”

“Ah, yes.” He blinked. “We’re a team.” He stopped, savouring the word. “I’ll take the Crescent War Moon in that case.”

He then wrote a couple of lines on his notebook. You could see he was writing down a list of ideas on bullet points. You did the same on a sheet of paper you had on you. After a couple of seconds, he talked again.

“Thanks for taking into consideration my preferences,” he placed his arm around the back of your chair.

“Why wouldn’t I?”, you questioned seriously. You were at total lost with him, so you leant in closer. You couldn’t care less, you were just playing his game. He acknowledged it, because you could see him narrowing his eyes at your movement.

“Let’s say some people is not as nice.”

You didn’t answer. What could have you said? It was not what you were expecting him to reply.

Breaking the bubble that you both had formed around you, two girls appeared out of nowhere. They were the ones you had seen before when you entered the building. Instinctively, you distanced yourself from the redhead.

“Sylvain?”, one of them started. They both were wearing fake grins.

“Do I know you?”, Sylvain asked, showing a bit of discomfort.

“Of course? We had a date in summer!”, the girl continued. She hadn’t taken the hint. “So, my friend and I were wondering if you wanted to hang out tonight, go to a bar, then you could come to our apartment, you know…”

You opened your eyes in surprise at the girl’s forwardness. And judging by Sylvain’s astonishment, he wasn’t expecting either such a direct and shameless offer. Did Sylvain have to deal with that too often? It made you feel uneasy. Of course, Ingrid would say he’d deserve it, because he had cultivated his reputation himself, but every part was so wrong. The way they talked to him as if he was a piece of meat, they way they looked at him.

“I’m afraid I must decline your offer, darling,” he talked in his most conciliatory voice.

“What? Really?”, said the other friend, huffing. “You said he’d agree.”

“Well, I’m working on a project with my friend, so… I’m quite busy.”

“I can’t believe you are rejecting us, Sylvain,” she made a disgusted face. “Anyways, your choice. Enjoy your new girlfriend, but I guess it will last like one week before you can find someone better.” Then, they turned around, looking behind a few times and gossiping.

“What the hell?”, you wondered, bewildered.

“Just my routine”, he sighed.

“We can continue another day, Sylvain”, you tested the waters. You sensed something was wrong and that he wanted to go home, and you had the feeling that he wouldn’t admit it by himself. “It’s getting late anyways.”

“Oh, yeah. You’re right. Let’s go” He put the piece of paper inside one of the pages of a volume he was going to take. “We can meet other day to put everything together.”

“Of course.” You started putting away your things back in your bag. Sylvain was no longer smiling.

“Can you pass me that book?”, he pointed at the red one you had on your side.

You took it and offered it to him. He extended his hand, and when he placed his fingers around it, they brushed yours. Your heart started to beat fast.

Yet before you could make sense of the occurrence, a stabbing pain stroke you. It felt like a spear had pierced through you, right below your chest. It was so real, so shocking, tears started to form on your eyes. You felt blood coming out, but when you looked for it, there was nothing there. The pain was beginning to expand, a wildfire burning your torso.

You put your palm where you felt the pain, unable to breathe. Suddenly, Sylvain realised something was wrong. You were opening your mouth to take in oxygen, but it was in vain.

“What’s happening?”, he could be shouting your name, but you couldn’t listen because the only thing you heard was a rush on your ears.

He grabbed your arm, but it only made it worse. It made all those strange phenomena more sharp and real. You whispered a faint ‘let me go’, and Sylvain moved away immediately. His steps were so fast he hit the chair and it fell down.

All of a sudden, when his skin wasn’t in contact with yours, everything subsided.

“Are you okay?”, Sylvain asked, alarmed. You hadn’t seen him that serious in all your life.

“Yes. I…”, you didn’t finish the sentence. Instead you recovered your breath slowly.

“Stop making so much noise! And don’t break the furniture!”, a kid appeared from behind one of the bookcases. His hair was dark brown, and he wielded a broom that he used to threaten. You felt a little embarrassed, so you muttered an apology before grabbing your things and almost running to the exit. Sylvain followed you closely.

“Are you okay?”, Sylvain repeated once you were on the street. As far as you could tell, he was concerned, but more than worry, his eyes displayed suspicion and curiosity.

“Yes. It’s nothing, I just had a problem breathing… maybe it was the dust”, you brushed it off.

“It might have been an anxiety attack. Some people have a lot during their first year at university”, he noted. His smile came back, reassuring. It was incredible how his demeanour could change so quickly. “What a day, huh?”, he laughed. “We should meet again soon. I had fun despite everything.”

“Despite the awkwardness too?”, you replied, both playful and too exhausted from the experience to second-guess your interactions with him.

“What do you mean? That was the best part!”

“C’mon Sylvain!” You denied with your head.

“I don’t know, okay? It just felt nice. You make good company.” He was staring off inro space, and you hoped in the most obscure part of your heart that he was being honest.

“Oh, and you realize that now?”, you teased.

“Better late than never,” your classmate added.

“I suppose.”

Step by step you started walking in the same direction. You were in silence. Each of you had much to make sense of. You weren’t paying attention to the time, until you reached a familiar crossing.

“I’m going this way”, you said as you signalled your direction.

“I’m happy we got paired up in class,” he stated. He was just as handsome as when you met him, but he had a sadder air.

“Me too. See you later, Sylvain.”

“See you.” He stood there, watching you disappear into a corner. Then, he talked to himself. “What a day…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I decided that in order to make the reader have any chance at being happy with Sylvain, I’m going to slowly make sense of his hate for women, which was addressed in a couple of supports in the game. Hopefully that will make this fic have more sense story-wise... Does that make sense?  
> Anyways, hopefully you are already catching some hints I'm dropping here!  
> I hope you have enjoyed this chapter. If you have suggestions, requests, theories or whatever leave a comment of come talk to me on tumblr - same username.


	3. I Chase Your Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hilda's hosting a Halloween party and things don't turn out the way you had intended - but you were slowly getting used to that.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: ALCOHOL, SWEAR WORDS, ATTEMPTED ASSAULT, MINOR VIOLENCE (tagging in case it triggers someone)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! It's too late to celebrate Halloween?  
> This chapter has been pretty intense to write. I hope you have the same sensations as you read it!

**Sylvain 18:35: What are you wearing?** **😉**

**Sylvain 18:36: Just kidding hahaha**

**Sylvain 18:36: Although I want to know what’s your costume**

You held back a laugh reading Sylvain’s messages. He was truly something else.

**You 18:37: Top secret**

“Is _he_ texting you again?”, Dorothea asked, mascara in hand. You couldn’t see her expression, but you certainly knew the corners of her lips were curling upwards.

“So what?”, you answered feigning weariness.

Your brunette friend was applying the finishing touches to her makeup in front of your bathroom mirror. There were cases, brushes, pencils, shadows and liners everywhere, all varying shades of red and nude. The living room was in the same situation because Mercedes and Annette had insisted on helping Ingrid get her Halloween costume ready. Ingrid complained, of course, since ‘knights didn’t wear make-up’, but who could ever deny Mercedes? Not you, and not Ingrid either.

You were sitting upon the lid of the toilet, observing Dorothea’s carful movements. You weren’t going all out like she did. You had a black dress that you liked and cheap fake blood you found on a trip to the supermarket – this hectic year you had no time to prepare.

“Nothing, nothing. It’s just…” She turned around, her emerald irises glistening. “You are totally at his mercy.”

“I’m not”, you furrowed your eyebrows.

“I thought I taught you well. But I guess that’s what happens when your first love strikes you…” She took the brightest shadow of red lipstick she could find in her purse and began applying it.

“That’s totally wrong!”, you protested, putting your phone a way to prove your point.

However, Dorothea was painfully right, as always. You had developed a soft spot for a certain redhead. In fact, you’d dare to say you hadn’t felt anything this intense for him before.

Had it been any other person, it wouldn’t be a problem. But it was Sylvain. The root of all evil. You didn’t trust him at all. Wasn’t it very suspicious that he all of a sudden was paying you attention? He might just want to hook up a couple of times and then disappear, because he had just ended his available catalogue of other women. Was he really like that? You’ve certainly seen him act like that. You’d better stay away from him. But what you felt around him had you addicted.

“So now you are telling me that if tonight he gets you cornered in a room at Hilda’s…” Dorothea lowered her voice, a husky whisper, to avoid the other girls from hearing her. “If he presses his – rather hot, not going to lie here – body against you and leans in all bothered… and then kisses you… you are going to say no. And then remain friends.”

“Yes!”, you lied with all the dignity you could muster.

“I don’t believe you!”, she shouted. In between laughs you threw at her a roll of toilet paper that moved her fake horns. “Stop! Don’t ruin my look, I’m almost finished.”

Dorothea faced you and fixed her cleavage. She was wearing a tight-fitting red dress made out of a velvet-like material, along with headband topped with red horns and a fake tail. The only thing she was missing was a trident.

“You make a good demon”, you commented, tilting your head.

“I’m a succubus. It’s not the same”, she pointed out.

“Of course.”

“Wait, what are you going to wear?”, she stepped closer to you. She inspected you from top to the bottom.

“This”, you stood up and gestured your own black dress with both hands.

“What?” She crossed her arms. “You need a costume!”

“I’m going to put on some fake blood too”, you answered. “I didn’t have time to prepare something else.”

“I’m already seeing the disappointment in Sylvain’s eyes.” She shook her head and tried to reach the doorknob. Then it hit you that you had been meaning to tell her something entirely different.

“Wait, Dorothea.”

“Yes?”, she seemed confused.

“I’ve been having nightmares lately. A lot of them.”

“About what?” Her tone was serious.

“It’s kind of weird.” You scratched your head. It was hard to put together all the scenes that appeared out of thin air at night. “The atmosphere is… like those movies Ingrid watches. But the characters are us. And there’s a war going on. There’s blood, death… I see everyone dying. And I dream that… someone with a speak goes right through my chest and I wake up with this unsettling pain where it hit.” You pointed the exact area.

“That’s worrying… Maybe you’ll have to see Manuela in the clinic.” She looked in deep thought. “Could it be the pressure from university?”

“Perhaps…”

You both went out of the bathroom to meet the other girls. Dorothea was watching you with the corner of her eye, and you feared that you might have worried her over nothing. 

“Dorothea, you are breathtaking!”, said Mercedes as she saw her.

“Thank you”, the brunette smiled. “You are not so bad yourself as a …nun?”

“I love this costume! It always scares all the kids”, she laughed. And you wouldn’t have expected less of the queen of ghost stories.

The sight of her was unsettling. There was dark paint all over under her eyes and her lips that formed a stark contrast with the white base underneath. On the other hand, Ingrid was dressed as a knight, as she did every year. No surprises there. She looked ready to go jousting in any moment. Annette was dressed in a black outfit, completed by car ears and whiskers.

“I love Halloween!”, Mercedes exclaimed. “It’s my favourite holiday. Should we try an Ouija board session?”

“No way”, said Annette with wide eyes.

“I’ll pass too”, added Dorothea.

“What a shame. I’m going to get a glass of water,” Mercedes announced. She then said your name. “Care to join me?”

“Sure.”

You could hear the muffled sound of the conversation in the living room from the kitchen. Your hand reached for a glass in the cabinet. You filled it with water and offered it to Mercedes. She politely muttered a thank you, and drunk it slowly, not taking her eyes off you.

“I wanted to talk to you about something”, she paused, prudent as always, waiting for your response. 

“What about?” You leant against the counter.

“It’s about Sylvain.”

The fact was not unforeseen at all. However, the fact that it was Mercedes carrying the message was unusual. You hadn’t seen her step in anyone’s affairs, so it must be serious. You gulped.

“I’m all ears.”

“I’m not going to beat around the bush. He hates women.” You remained silent, waiting for her explanation. “I’m her friend, and I’ve been for a long time. And I’ve had a lot of conversations with him… When a woman shows any interest in him, he thinks they’re after his family’s fortune, that they just want to brag of their relationship.”

“And what should I do with that information?” You said sceptically. You already knew all of that – you weren’t blind – but you didn’t see where she was going.

“I think you should be aware in case you are pursuing a romantic relationship with him.” She breathed in deeply. “I’m not saying he’s a bad person – I don’t think he is –, but he isn’t precisely nice when it comes to his girlfriends. Apparently he hasn’t always been like this… There were a few girls who took advantage of him, confirmed his fears, and now he feels entitled to use people as he wants. He can be the worst. And I’m afraid your feelings are pretty serious.”

“I’m not-”

“I don’t want him to break your heart. Even if you are made for each other, even if he seems completely in love with you, be careful. Anything can happen, because people who have been hurt often hurt others too.” She diverted her gaze.

“Are you telling me that I should just forget him?”

“I can’t tell you what to do, I just can give you my point of view. I don’t think he’s incapable of love… When he talks about you, he’s all happy and true. I’d never seen him like that. But I’ve also seen so many girls that tried to change him and failed…” 

“That’s… hard to process,” you replied as you let out a nervous giggle. “But I think I can’t just move on.”

“Whatever you do, I’ll be here, okay?” Mercedes touched your shoulder lightly. “Let’s head back.”

The sky was dark and the moon was full. Your group walked down the main street to go to Hilda’s home, which was the closest to the campus. Her parents weren’t home, so she and Holst thought it would be a great idea to throw a party. None complained. Almost everyone you knew in high school was invited.

You weren’t exactly nervous. But Sylvain was going to be there and, even though there was some excitement within you, your mind was too busy second-guessing yourself and arousing doubt.

“What did Mercedes say?”, Dorothea whispered when the other three girls were distracted. She was always on the lookout for some gossip, just like Claude.

“She just wanted to warn me about the fact that Sylvain hates women,” you rolled your eyes.

“Well, it’s not untrue.” She smiled. “I’m sure she had good intentions.”

“I know, Dorothea. But it only makes me feel worse hearing it from the only person who had ever defended _him_.”

“Did it change anything though?” She placed her hand on your back Sympathetically.

“That’s the problem, it didn’t.”

“My poor baby.” She caressed your arm. “You look tired.”

“It must be the nightmares”, you concluded. “I couldn’t sleep that much yesterday.”

“Have fun today, will you? Everything will turn out fun if you do what your heart tells you.”

“That’s unexpectedly non-cynical coming from you”, you remarked, a smirk forming.

“Shush. You love me.” You hummed in agreement.

“Dorothea?”, Annette called her, turning around to locate her. “Where is Petra?”

“I still haven’t met her!”, exclaimed Ingrid.

“She must be already there! She went with Edelgard and Hubert,” answered Dorothea. “At first I wanted her to spend more time with other people but now I’m starting to miss the first few weeks when we were always together!”

As you arrived, Hilda opened the door. Her long, pink hair was tied back in a pony tail. She wore a white, lacy dress, and despite the beautiful eyeliner, she was kind of blue and had scars drawn all over her. You guessed she was a zombie bride. She had that sweet and satisfied smile of hers and a beer can on one of her delicate hands.

“Welcome, welcome! Come in! There’s a lot of people who will come later but we’ve already started. Ah, Petra’s waiting for you, Dorothea,” she said as she let you in the house.

“I’ll find her,” she said as she disappeared into the luxurious house. “Thanks!”

Mercedes, Anette and Ingrid entered too. Hilda was waiting for you, the last on line, on the doorframe. She winked at you.

“And you… Sylvain is coming in half an hour…”, she coyly remarked. “He’s coming with Felix, Dimitri and their brothers.”

“And that’s important because…?”, you played dumb.

“Not my business. Claude said that I should let you know”, she smirked. “Come in, let’s have a drink.”

Hilda hadn’t lied. The music was roaring, and all the rooms were filled with people occupying themselves in the entailments of a party. Right after you greeted everyone, when you were the tiniest bit tipsy, you saw Sylvain arrive, along with Dimitri and Felix. He commented something to his brother, Miklan, who went away with Glenn, leaving the trio alone. Sylvain’s brother looked angry and aggressive – the opposite of the atmosphere of the place, and you had a bad feeling about him. He was known for causing trouble, but you hoped Glenn and Holst could keep him at bay.

Felix and Dimitri weren’t wearing anything remarkable. Dimitri, a white shirt on his torso and a plastic sword on hand, took advantage of his eyepatch to look like a pirate, while Felix had a scary-looking mask on. Quite the opposite was their redhead friend. He was wearing a cliché vampire costume, cloak and fangs included. His white shirt was unbuttoned halfway. It was totally in character for Sylvain.

“Admiring the prey?”, Claude’s voice resonated on you back, startling you.

“Claude, are you a furry?”, you laughed as you saw him.

“I’m the big bad wolf!”, he deadpanned. “You forgot to say hi to your sweetheart, by the way.” He whispered, then yelled. “Hey, Sylvain!”

“Claude!” Sylvain waved him. However, when his eyes met your form, he turned serious. He acknowledged you with a nod. You wanted to approach him, but you were unsettled.

Right before you could do anything else, the Almyran grabbed your arm and muttered a ‘let’s go’. Both of you disappeared into a corridor filled with portraits of Hilda’s family members that led to the kitchen. Right before going into your destination, you stopped.

“What are you doing?”, you asked.

“We’re going to play never have I ever with Hilda in the kitchen”, he smiled.

“What’s with all the rush? She’s not going anywhere, it’s her house.” You withdrew from him. “Besides, I thought you wanted me to greet Sylvain.”

“We’re setting the trap, don’t worry,” he winked. “Sylvain’s going to fall onto your arms tonight.”

“No, no, no”, you stated. Mercedes’ words resonated in your head, which further entangled all your thoughts about anything related to Sylvain. “No romance today. It’s a bad idea,” you said unconvinced.

“I think you are not telling everything to me, but it’s happening. I have a sixth sense for that.” You grimaced. “Don’t believe me? Then let’s bet! If by 2 a.m. you have kissed him, you’ll give me your dessert for three weeks.”

“And if I win?” It seemed easy, right? Just stay away from Sylvain all night, and there wouldn’t be any trouble.

“I’ll take you on a date”, he affirmed without hesitation. It shocked you that he wanted a date.

“It seems like a win-win for you.”

“I’ll also give you my dessert, okay?” he sighed.

“Seems fair, I guess.” You shrugged.

“Are you sure about that?” He smiled mysteriously, went into the kitchen and, being the natural at social gatherings he was, took a shot glass and filled it to the brim.

There were a lot of Hilda and Claude’s classmates partaking in the game, while your other friends were scattered throughout the multiple rooms. Holst, dressed as the zombie groom to his little sister, popped in from time to time to either get more booze or control the situation.

The hours passed by and you lost track of all the people you were interacting with, but everyone seemed very cheerful. There were a lot of sweets – it was Halloween after all – and pizza. You remembered that at some point you shared a conversation with Petra after those booze games, and she talked a lot about Brigid and how she missed it.

Another highlight was when you heard a ruckus about someone trying to contact spirits with a makeshift Ouija. You suspected it was Mercedes trying to scare anyone. And Hilda held a costume contest where the only judge was herself and the main price was helping her with her homework. Many people participated. There were films playing in the living room and techno music coming from upstairs. Petra and Dorothea were stuck together all the time, which was a little weird for you since your brunette friend used parties as a way to find a good catch. All in all, everyone seemed to be having fun.

Perched in the safety of a sofa with Claude and Dimitri – who, by the way, didn’t dare to speak with you out of shyness -, you were having a marathon of the worst gore-horror-sci-fi movies you could find. As time passed, you observed there were couples sneaking away, going to Sothis-know-where, and some of them came back dishevelled, others simply vanished.

You watched the clock. 1:56 a.m. No sight of Sylvain. You wanted with all your heart to look for him and talk because you hadn’t interacted with him yet. Maybe there was no harm in that. Claude had been following you like a lost puppy all night, so it had been easy to ignore the urge, but now… The youngest of the Gautier brothers had been talking to older girls, passing right next to where you were. You almost dared to say he was trying to make you jealous.

You stood up and went to another lounge where there was music. Incredibly, Felix was dancing with Anette. You guessed Sylvain could be there.

But then you stopped in your tracks. You spotted your prince charming. He was with a blonde girl who caressed his cheek with her fingers. He whispered something in her ear, she took his hand and led him outside.

Your heart flopped. That was it, wasn’t it? Game over.

Dorothea came out of the room and bumped into you.

“Did you know I haven’t seen Ingrid in like an hour? I think she left with Ashe and-”. She cut her sentence. “Are you okay?”, asked Dorothea, focusing her attention on you. Petra was behind her.

“Yes, why?”

“You look like you are about to cry,” the girl from Brigid said.

“I feel like I’m going to throw up,” you lied. “I’m going to the bathroom. Be back in a minute.”

“May I go with you?”, Claude, who had followed you, intervened.

“No, I’m fine”, you lied again. You were tired of lying. “Don’t worry.”

You went away and tried to navigate to the bathroom. Maybe you could spill some tears or at least splash some water on your face. You traversed the enormity of Hilda’s home, your mind a bit cloudy with the drink and the disappointment, yet overall you were sobered up. Keeping it together in a crowded place was a real challenge, more when you had to smile to the people you knew as you passed them by, but you managed just fine.

You bumped into some shoulders, did what you could to reach the white door at the what seemed the most remote corner of the hall. 

Once in the bathroom, you looked at yourself in the mirror.

What were you going to do? You were ready to go home. Or you could take what Dorothea once said literally and ask Claude to sneak away with you. Yet, you scratched that possibility right away. It wouldn’t be fair for any of you. If you just could have gotten into your head what Mercedes said and sticked to your original plan, you’d be fine, having the time of your life with your friends. Instead, your doomed heart yearned for him in a way you couldn’t undo.

There was a black hole in your stomach. It seemed that your desperation grew the further he was from you.

Why were you surprised? It was inevitable that it happened. Everyone said so, everyone thought so. Were you for real harbouring the empty hope that he would choose you? Or that he even wanted you? He was just being nice. It seemed clearer now.

As you sunk in your despair and confusion, the door of the bathroom opened.

“It’s occupied!”, you exclaimed. Still, the figured entered without any care and closed the door with a loud hit.

“You were taking too long.”

That rough voice… You turned around. It was Miklan. He wasn’t wearing any costume, and had the same expression than before. His eyes were cold, his stare calculated. His presence was eerie, turning on all your alarms.

“Miklan, get out.” You were still, as if treating a wild animal. “I need to use the toilet.”

“You know me?” He said very pleased with himself.

“We were in the same high-school,” you reminded him

“I see.” He smiled, and you got goosebumps. “I’ve observed you all night.”

“Why?”

“My bother hasn’t got his eyes off you. So, I took an interest in you.”

“If you haven’t notice, he’s gone away somewhere with a busty girl,” you passed him, trying to get out of there. “So, it’s quite useless to play now the dutiful older brother or-”

“You could have some fun with me instead.” He grabbed your arm. So that’s what he wanted. “I’m not an asshole like him.”

“You are acting like one right now.” You tried to force your arm free, but it was useless. “Let me go.”

“Why Sylvain and not me?”, he grunted. His breathing was becoming heavier as his irritation grew. “If it was him and not me, you’d gladly fuck me here.”

Suddenly, you remembered your last nightmare. It was about Miklan. He had turned into some kind of black monster before your eyes. It had horrified you, and everyone who was around you. Sylvain was next to you during that dream, trembling, as his brother’s features were consumed by darkness. The dream had felt so real. You woke up in panic, cold sweat, breathing with difficulty.

“Go away, Miklan”, you said with anger. He leant in.

“Or what?”

Then, out of instinct, you punched him in the face as hard as you could. As he covered his scarred nose, which was then bleeding, you run away from the bathroom.

“Bitch!”, he yelled.

You run a few meters before crashing into a solid body. He was talking to you, but you were focused on escaping. You assumed he was your Almyran shadow for the night.

“Claude, let’s go. Now.”

“Claude?” Oh shit. It was Sylvain’s voice. You turned around to see his confused features. Why did he look so sad for no apparent reason?

“Sylvain?”. You were disconcerted. Wasn’t he gone?

Thereupon, his brother appeared around the corner. He had blood smeared on his face and he was red with anger. You had done a good number on him. You felt safer, because you were surrounded by people.

“Go away, Sylvain. I’ve got some unfinished business with that whore”, he said as he came closer to both of you, slow like a predator. Sylvain pushed you behind him, but you could see the gleam of fear in his eyes. Miklan terrified him.

“Fuck you,” you retorted to Miklan.

“I swear if you did something, I’ll-” Began Sylvain, but thankfully he didn’t have to finish.

“Time to go away, buddy.”

You had never been gladder to see Glenn, the only human who had been able to control Miklan – or so it was said. Behind him, Holst and Balthus, a school drop-out you had only heard about, stood like two bodyguards.

Still, the older Gautier considering fighting them. You could almost hear his thoughts. But, in the last moment, he relaxed.

“Goodbye, losers”, he huffed, then made a beeline for the exit. “Not like I’m going to see any of you fuckers ever again.”

“Are you okay?”, Holst asked you, worried. “You have a red mark on your wrist. And your knuckles have blood.”

“I’m fine. It’s his.” You were so relieved.

“That was a really good punch! A piece of art on his face,” told you Balthus with pride. He seemed like a good guy, but way too violent for your taste. “Take that as a compliment from the King of Grappling!” You nodded politely.

“He’s going to a military school tomorrow. We thought he’d do the least harm if he felt…included. Not the case. If you need anything…” Glenn explained with a serious tone.

“It’s fine, really.”

“Can I speak to you in private?”, Sylvain got into the conversation.

“I’m fucking done with the Gautier brothers today, thank you.” You escaped from the men to look for the backyard to get some fresh air. Yet Sylvain, not giving up, chased you.

“I’m sorry”, he said. He was suffering too, but you chose to ignore that. “Really. Miklan just tries to take everything from me, so he must have thought-”

“That I was your girlfriend? That’s ridiculous.” You didn’t stop, your aim right in front of you. You didn’t see that his lips formed a straight line as soon as the words left your mouth.

“The thing is, he wanted to hurt you in order to hurt me.”

“That’s unfortunate then! Had he known you were out there fucking anyone that crossed your way, he would have left me alone!” You felt the cold breeze when you stepped out of the building. “I don’t understand why he didn’t bother any of your flings!”

“For your information, I wasn’t fucking anyone.” Sylvain closed the doors behind him. You moved to face him, since he didn’t seem to be going away any soon, so you’d better get everything out of your chest. It might do the job and reconcile your emotions.

“I don’t need to know, Sylvain. It’s your life, enjoy it as you want.” There was poison in your voice, but you couldn’t contain the raw emotions that controlled you.

“I want you to know! She was shitfaced and wouldn’t separate from me, so I called her a taxi.” He crossed his arms. “Why are you acting like that anyways? You and Claude seemed to be having too much fun to notice anything I did.”

“What are you talking about?”, you replied with indignation.

“All those touches and laughing. He does the same in class and you let him do whatever he wants. And then you come and text me as if you were interested in me! Do you kiss him when you’re alone?” He was approaching you, seeking the confrontation. You didn’t yield.

“You’ve lost it Sylvain.” You were so close, you were almost touching. Your faces were mere inches from each other. “I’m not the one who uses people as he wants and then leave them! Why are you so jealous? I’m just another girl in the count, you can easily replace me!”

“You have no idea what you are talking about!”, he shouted.

“Then explain it! Is it that fucking difficult?”

“It is! I’m trying to tell you, but you won’t listen! I could never replace you!”

At last, you surrendered to your heart.

You moved towards him and kissed him. It was like a weight lifted from your body. His lips were soft and warm, a hearth during winter. You clung onto his cheap costume, for you wanted to feel his warmth as close as you could.

It took him a few seconds to get back to his senses, but when he did, he turned the kiss into a fierce one, tainted with desperation. He placed one of his hands against the back of your neck, the other around your waist. You were perfectly anchored to him. His touch was exquisite, soft, as if you were a porcelain doll. You opened your mouth, caressed his with your tongue. You decided he was your favourite flavour, and that you’d never get tired of kissing him. He was experienced, determined, and knew what to do to turn you on beyond limit.

He lifted your body and pressed you against the wall. You wrapped your legs around his waist. He muttered a blasphemy. The next thing you felt, was his tongue back in your mouth. He was desperate to try your taste, to satiate the hunger that had been consuming him. You moved your hips, just in the slightest manner, because nothing he did was enough.

“We should stop,” he said, your taste lingering on his lips.

“Why?”

“We’re drunk. We were arguing.” You giggled. He wished he could hear that sound every day of his life. You disentangled your members from him and placed your feet on the floor, although he didn’t let go your waist.

“Don’t mess with me anymore Sylvain. Be clear. Don’t lie to me,” you pleaded.

“Okay.” He closed his eyes. “I tried to have sex with that girl before.”

“Oh”

“I was jealous of Claude. But I swear I didn’t do anything in the end.” His light brown eyes opened and gazed you sincerely. “I called a taxi for her, I didn’t lie.”

“What happened?” You asked softly.

“I was thinking about you. As I was crossing the door, I regretted everything and… Well, I put her in the car and went in again.” He sighed. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“You got me right here and now,” you reminded him.

“I don’t want to spoil this like I almost did.”

“You won’t spoil anything if you tell me the truth.” You sounded calm, but you were a wreck on the inside. “I can stand it if it’s just a one-night stand. Just… don’t lie to me. Tell me what I am to you.”

“Please, believe in me. Please.” You could hear now how he slurred his syllables. He was right, neither of you were in the best condition to do anything.

“Why do you think I will?”

“Because you’re here with me right now. No one else has ever believed in me. Not even myself.” You caressed his cheek.

“Sylvain…”

“I promise you I will explain everything tomorrow. My intentions, my behaviour… I’m just asking that you believe all that I say and don’t give up on me.” He stared at you, waiting patiently for your answer.

“Okay, Sylvain. I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you already guessing what's happening here? What does Sylvain have to say?!  
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Comment somehting if you liked it ;) or if you have any suggestions, anything you want to see in the series or in another fics... I'm just dying to interact with anyone at this point haha. Anyways, thanks for reading and stick by!!!


	4. I Am Finally Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain and you have a long overdue chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to @Galamix who has become beta reader and official editor of this fic!!! At last! Also thank them because I was delaying this chapter so much due to Christmas and their interest made me finish it! Better late than never right?   
> I hope you enjoy reading this and have a good night/day wherever you are :)

Dimitri and Sylvain had accompanied you to your apartment on your way back from the party. 

Of course, after hearing all the ruckus and inquiring what had happened, Dimitri wanted to make sure you arrived home safely. Being the gentleman he is, he offered you a ride home. You tried to deny his proposition out of politeness, but he was insistent. Besides, he was one of the few people who hadn’t drunk anything and, in that moment, not having to walk home was the most attractive option. You were exhausted and the only thing you wanted was lying down on your bed.

There was a downside: he lived with Sylvain, so Sylvain was coming along. It wasn’t itself a bad thing, but you had the impression that fate was setting you both up all the time.

You sat on the co-pilot seat, while Dimitri was driving, and Sylvain was on the back. You looked at Dimitri, but he couldn’t see you because you were on his eyepatch’s side. Silence settled in the car despite the distant chatter of the radio. You were dizzy and drowsy. It was hard not to fall asleep right there.

Sylvain’s breath, steady, a sweet lullaby you focused on. Dimitri said something to Sylvain, starting a mindless conversation about domestic chores. Grocery shopping, cleaning the toilet...

Something poked your head from behind. You turned around to ask the red head what he wanted. But before you could open your mouth, he caressed your cheek affectionately. His hand was warm, and his fingers were soft as he traced the line of your jaw. He then kept talking as if nothing had happened, and you tried to concentrate on the streetlamps passing by.

He really was something else, wasn’t he?

You arrived shortly after. Dimitri double parked and waited inside the car, while Sylvain left the warmth of it to take you to the door of your apartment.

“Thank you, Dimitri.”

“It was nothing. Good night!” He waved at you.

You felt the cold breeze blowing on your face and on your legs during the short space between the vehicle and the building.

“Why don’t we talk tomorrow over some tea?” Sylvain suggested out of the blue. He was feigning nonchalance. 

“Are you still brooding over tomorrow?”, you teased tiredly, opening the outer door.

“We hadn’t settled a place or a time.” He hummed. “I don’t want you to sleep over and bail out.”

“You’re turning our serious talk into a date? How sneaky of you!”

“Is it working?”, he laughed as he went up the stairs before you.

“You’re incorrigible.”

You used your key to enter your apartment, but it wasn’t locked. It annoyed you because you thought Ingrid was still out partying somewhere in Hilda’s home. As you went in, you heard some giggling and whispering. You stopped Sylvain from coming in, evaluating the living room and the hall.

“Isn’t that the plastic sword Ashe had?”, he asked, his voice low, noticing something was amiss.

“I can’t believe it”, you covered your mouth to prevent a laugh.

“Ashe and Ingrid? What has university done to my innocent friends?” Sylvain looked almost offended. “What’s next? Manuela and Seteth?”

“Never say never”, you shrugged. “Dorothea could say the same about you and me.”

“Well, yes… I hadn’t thought about that.” Sylvain scratched the back of his neck. He was standing in your lobby, looking uneasy. “Will you be able to sleep with the lovey-dovey lovers here?”

“I have earplugs in case they can’t contain their love”, you grimaced. He felt embarrassed as he was losing time just to be with you, moving his weight from one foot to the other and diverting his gaze, hoping he’d come up with something else to justify his presence there. “See you tomorrow then?”, he said at last, as though his body didn’t want to leave your side.

“Over tea. At 12?”, you suggested.

“Yes. Well, goodbye.”

“See you tomorrow, Sylvain.”

He disappeared into the darkness of the hall. You went straight to your bed, without sparing a second thought to anyone else’s business. You had a lot to think about yourself and needed a good rest.

The next morning your head was foggy. The events of the previous night slowly came back to your mind while stretching your arms. It turned out, as you looked at the clock, that you had woken up way too early. The small hand of the clock marked the number nine. You practically jumped out of bed still in last night’s clothes and went around the apartment. Ingrid wasn’t up yet, but Ashe’s things weren’t there, so he must have left in the middle of the night.

You headed to the shower, rushed without reason. Under the hot water, you closed your eyes. You remembered his warm hand the night before, and the feel of his touch. It was familiar. You had grabbed his hand before, right? But the memory changed all of a sudden. An image flashed, Sylvain caressing your cheek, but you both were standing somewhere else.

It was a battlefield, filled with corpses. Professor Byleth and Dimitri were by your side. All you were tainted by blood: your clothes, your weapons, your hair. But there was an odd silence, a distant cheer. Sylvain, not letting you go, touched your forehead with his and whispered: ‘it’s over. At last, it’s over.” And he repeated your name like a chant.

You fell backwards, landing on your bottom. You didn’t hurt yourself, thankfully. Then, you got up, dried with a towel and put on some clothes.

When you stopped for a moment, you felt that your heart was out of control, beating in a frenzied rhythm. It was 9:23, you weren’t late to your date. You breathed in.

But your body wouldn’t calm down.

You were supposed to be wasted from the party, but if you had drunk three cups of coffee – which you hadn’t, and needn’t at the moment –, you wouldn’t have felt more awake and alarmed. There was something else inside of you trying to resurface, yet it reached the light.

**You 09:24: Can we meet earlier?**

Would Sylvain be up yet? You hoped so. And deep down, you knew he was reading the message.

**Sylvain 09:25: Yes. Pls.**

**Sylvain 09:25: The wait is killing me.**

**Sylvain 09:25: [Photograph attached]**

You took a deep breath, relieved that he was as restless as you.

**You 09:26: I hope it’s not a dick picture.**

**Sylvain 09:27: I charge for those, sorry.**

You opened the file. It was Sylvain, with a scarf, a coat and a backpack, walking around a park near the café you were going to meet him in. His nose was red, his eyes puffy from not sleeping too much, and in a bad way.

**You 09:28: How long have you been up?**

**You 09:28: Let’s meet now**

**Sylvain 09:29: I woke up at 8**

**Sylvain 09:30: I couldn’t sleep anymore**

**Sylvain 09:30: Oh, eager, are we?** **😉**

**You 09:30: …**

**You 09:30: I’m on my way.**

You grabbed your own coat and went out. Sylvain was acting weird, but you guessed that what he was about to reveal was putting his nerves on edge.

You realised halfway to your meeting point that you had forgotten your keys. That’s how disconnected you were from your surroundings. Your head was cluttered. Where had all this come from? There was something else on the back of your mind, right on the tip of your tongue, that you couldn’t exactly take out, but you couldn’t remember what it was, It was unnerving. And the more you thought about Sylvain, the more those visions tried to surface, yet they couldn’t appear yet.

Thankfully, the café wasn’t far from your home and you arrived in less than ten minutes. It was a cold day, and there was hardly anyone in the street.

You didn’t bother looking around for Sylvain. You just knew he was inside of the place, so you opened the door ringing the small bell attached to it. A waiter with purple hair and well-done makeup wished you a good morning. After a quick glance around the local, you found Sylvain on a secluded corner, who was distractedly looking at his own drink and hadn’t realised you had arrived.

“Hi!”, you greeted nervously.

He smiled warmly. He was drinking a bergamot tea and on the opposite side of the table, your own favourite kind awaited you. You felt your heart melt, but then you realised another thing.

“Thank you, but how did you know my favourite kind of drink?”, you tilted your head. “Did Ingrid or Dorothea tell-?”

“Honestly, I didn’t know it.” He sighed. “I only knew from a dream.”

You blinked while he shrugged. He was waiting for you to talk.

“Excuse me?”

“Let me explain myself.” His tone was so serious, it sent a chill to your spine.

“Sure.”

“Okay…” He inhaled deeply. You were so curious about his secrecy. Unconsciously, you were leaning over on the edge of your chair in anticipation. He wasn’t looking at you, his eyes were fixed on his hands, which were holding the warm drink. “Before I begin, I want to warn you first. Felix thought I was going crazy for a month. He still doesn’t believe me, I just stopped talking about it and… well, haven’t talked to anyone about this ever since.”

“Sylvain, I don’t need a warning, I need you to tell me what’s happening.”

“Yes, right.” He finally gazed at you. “I must ask something first. Have you had any nightmares or dreams recently? About the people we went with to Garreg Mach High School.”

Your heart beat faster and stronger hearing that. You had one just before breakfast, and you weren’t even asleep.

“Yes. I’ve had nightmares. About… Miklan. He transformed into a huge, beastly monster. And you were there, right next to me. And Professor Byleth. And many other students. Well, the others changed… Sometimes they were Annette, Dimitri and Felix, sometimes they were Hilda, Raphael and Claude.” You gulped for a moment. “When we were in the library…” Sylvain was watching you intently.

“Yes?”

“My chest hurt. That night, I dreamt someone had pierced me with a spear. It was horrible…” You paused to ease yourself. “I could feel the blood running down my stomach, and… the coldness flowing from the wound. I felt I was dying.”

“Did you know who hurt you?” Your hair stood on end. You didn’t answer. You were too afraid to speak because you, too, knew who it was. Sylvain sensed it. “It was me, right?” You nodded slowly, studying his movements. “I’ve dreamt that too. It was the main reason why I ignored you all those years.”

“Really?”, you frowned. “For a dream? It was not pleasant, but…”

“Well, imagine my situation,” he explained, “Ingrid has a cute new friend and the first time I see you I keep dreaming that I’m stabbing you with a fucking spear.” You giggled at his perspective. He wasn’t wrong. “I had the same nightmare on a loop for a week, so I convinced myself it was a signal to leave you alone. It did really freak me out.”

“And here I thought you hated me”, you made a funny face. “Why did you so suddenly change your opinion and started talking to me, then?”

“I wanted to pass the subject. Hard to do a project without speaking to your partner,” he replied, and you raised your eyebrows.

“Sylvain, weren’t you going to be honest?”

“Ah, this is going to be awkward,” he moved his hands around, not sure about where to let them rest. You could see he was uneasy again. “From then on I had a lot of dreams about you. We would spar together, sneak out of Byleth’s lessons… and we went through a war together. It was like we were the main characters of one of those romance novels of knights that Ingrid loves.” He looked at you shyly. Sylvain took a deep breath, and rushed the next part of his speech, hoping you wouldn’t pay it a lot of attention, considering all he had already said. “I feel like I’ve loved you for a hundred of years, and I can’t deny it anymore.”

You took your time processing all the information and taking it in. “Are you weirded out yet?” He asked, flashing you an apologetic smile.

“No, no. I’m just… amazed that we’re connected in that way.” You took a long sip from your warm drink. “All you tell me sounds familiar, yet I can’t remember. I’ve always had a little crush-”

“Little?” He winked. The redhead knew perfectly how to disarm you.

“Yes, little!” You rolled your eyes. “I didn’t know why, but it was as if I knew you all my life, and all my emotions just got stronger with time. And the more people we dated – it was mainly you dating people, but you understand me – the more I felt a piece of me was missing.”

“So you believe me and acknowledge that there are things out of place here, right?”

“Yes.” Another chill ran through your spine.

“Okay, so I’ve been talking to other people. And they had nightmares or plain dreams in a similar setting. A long time ago, with magic and wars. And it affects all of those who have something to do with Garreg Mach High School.”

“Once, Bernadetta hid in the bathroom crying because she thought she had murdered Ingrid,” you told him, as you remembered the strange occurrences of your high school days. “Edelgard and I were really disturbed all day because… well, why would she even think of that?”

“See? My theory is…” Sylvain interrupted himself. He was sure you were going to question his sanity, but he had to tell you. He knew he could count on you. Even if it turned out he was really going insane, you’d help him find a solution. Even if you’d barely ever talked two months before that moment, Sylvain trusted you. “My theory is that we’ve all lived that and that we have been reincarnated in this world somehow. But they couldn’t erase all the memories because our bonds once were very strong.” He couldn’t stop now. “And I think that we have lived in that world multiple times. Otherwise, the timelines don’t make sense.”

“What do you mean?”

“I killed you. Do you know where?”

“In Gronder,” you answer automatically. “Although I don’t know where that is, I just know the name…”

“It’s a field on the way to Garreg Mach from the south.” He shook his head to clear his thoughts. “That isn’t important, though. The thing is, I have other memories. I recall you calling me with an axe in Deirdru while I was trying to attack Claude. And I can also perfectly remember your face when you- when I- Ugh, when we got married. And we were way older.”

“We got married?” you said astonishingly.

“That’s not my point, but yes. Remember we also murder each other? It’s quite fucked up.”

“This morning… It wasn’t a dream, I was in the shower and it just came to my mind. The war ended, we were with Dimitri and Byleth. And both of us were alive.” Sylvain nodded at your words. He wasn’t surprised. You supposed Sylvain had other visions outside dreams too. You pitied him for all the years he went through this alone.

“Although, there are other occurrences that don’t change between the timelines. Glenn always ends up dying. So does Byleth’s father, and Dimitri’s family too. So far – well, you already know this – they are alive right now, but I’m scared that…'' He couldn’t end the sentence.

“Why would we be in a loop of events that change but always involve us and our friends?” You questioned out loud.

“I wish I knew. As I wish I knew why I’m the one having all these dreams while the rest looks like they know nothing of this madness.”

“You are very touchy-feely, maybe that’s why”, you suggested trying to lift the mood. Suddenly something dawned on you. “Oh... My dreams became more vivid when you touched me.”

“Fuck. I suppose that makes sense. It feels like it’s a divine punishment for my antics”, he dedicated you with a sad smile.

There was tension in the air. Sylvain bit his lip and looked everywhere else but you. You, on the other hand, were as confused as ever, your gaze blank. Your train of thought was a mess. Sylvain was right. The things he said made sense. But at the same time, it was impossible that something like that was happening to you. Surely, you would have noticed. Everyone would have noticed that something was wrong.

“What do you think?”, he finally dared to ask. “Do you believe me for real?”

“I do. But… It’s just too implausible. There has to be another explanation.”

“Then help me find it,” he said. His voice trembled.

“I’m going to. We’re going to find out what’s happening.” You took his nervous hand. “I promise.”

His phone started ringing. He cursed and took it from the pocket of his jeans. His frown deepened as he read the name of the person calling.

“Shit. It’s Felix. I gotta pick it up, he never calls so this must be an emergency.”

“Yes, go on,” you said.

You watched his body language carefully. Sylvain’s theory was madness, as he put it, but it somehow explained all the weird things that were happening to you lately. And something within you told you to believe him. How else were you going to understand what was happening?

Sylvain’s face was alarmed, so you paid attention to his conversation.

“What? A car crash? Where are you?” He started gathering his things on his bag while holding his phone between his shoulder and cheek. “Just Glenn? You’re ok? I’m going to the hospital, Felix.” Sylvain hung up the phone quickly before gathering his things, rushing to leave the café.

“Is Glenn…?” You didn’t want to pronounce the word. The tension was palpable.

“No. He’s alive. Although…” He stood up, worry in his voice. “Can you come with me?”

“Yes”, you agreed. This had to be a shock to him, not only because of other worlds and wars, but because they’ve been friends forever. “I don’t know if Felix would like me there, thought…”

“I need you with me. Please.” His voice was growing sore, almost cracking from fear.

“Of course.”

He grabbed you by your hand and he led you to his car. You sat on the right seat while he started the engine urgently. He didn’t lose any time and headed for the hospital where Glenn was. Judging by the direction, it was Seiros’ Clinic.

“If Glenn dies, does that mean everything else is going to happen too?” You asked, still considering all the possibilities. A war was not probable. But you never knew what could happen.

“I wish I knew.”

“That’s why you are so scared?”, you pressed.

“In part, yes.”

“What else worries you?”

“That you think I’m crazy and never talk to me again.” He focused on the road, resisting the need to look at you.

“Well, you needn’t worry about that. That much I can assure you.”

Sylvain didn’t answer. Instead, he squeezed the wheel. You looked at him through the rear-view mirror. His eyes were red, but your words had soothed him, so you didn’t say anything else until you arrived, letting him think about everything.

The halls of the hospital were coloured with white and a sickly pale green. Everything smelled like disinfectant. You walked aimlessly along the places you were allowed to roam until you found Felix. He was a total disaster, with his hair out of place, his expression of pain. You wished you could do something, but you knew Felix didn’t exactly like strangers meddling in his business.

He greeted both of you dryly with a nod.

“How is he?” questioned Sylvain, hiding his consternation. Still, his worry showed through his lack of greeting back to Felix, as he was more concerned for Glenn’s wellbeing.

“He’s in an induced coma. But he’s fine. His vitals are stable now. The doctors said that was a good sign.” Sylvain let out a relieved breath at Felix’ words. He looked at you, then back at his old friend.

“That’s good, Felix.”

“There are going to be long term consequences, though.” Felix’s eyes went to the floor. “That useless motherfucker,” he muttered, hiding his emotions by masking it with fake disgust.

A small nurse with long green hair emerged from the room. Her face rang a bell.

“I apologize for not introducing myself properly before,” She addressed Felix. “You may call me Flayn. I’ll be the nurse attending to your brother Glenn from now on.”  
  
Felix simply nodded, unimpressed, muttering a ‘nice to meet you’ under his breath.  
  
“Mind coming with me, Felix?” Her shade of green hair reminds you of your professor’s.

Felix left both of you with a gesture of his hand. Sylvain sat on an uncomfortable plastic chair, of a green darker than the ones in the walls, and you let yourself rest on a seat beside him. You thought of the nurses’ face. Her name. You repeated it to yourself.

“Flayn!” You suddenly exclaimed. Sylvain tilted his head. “The nurse’s name was Flayn.”

“Yes. She said that was her name.” He furrowed his brow. “What’s with it?”

“Felix doesn’t know her?” You asked, surprised. “She’s Seteth’s sister. Or daughter. She was in school with us, right? And yet, Felix doesn’t know her.”

“Neither do you.”

“I do-!” You began, before being cut off by the sound of a door opening. Instinctively, you turned your head to the source of the noise.

Out comes Flayn, gently, letting out a sigh before she uttered some words in a low tone. Had you kept talking, or had some external noise passed from the outside, and you wouldn’t have heard what she said.

But you did, as clear as water.

_Thank the Goddess he hasn’t died again.”_

Your stomach turned. Sylvain’s theory was starting to finally sink in. You had believed him before, but such a convincing affirmation of his suspicions was disheartening. Why was everything happening? Why did it have to be you and Sylvain the ones who remembered those things? And did Flayn also have those dreams, or did she already know what was happening?

Your hands were shaking.

“Hello, Flayn.” Sylvain stood up to greet the girl with a handshake. “Thank you for treating Glenn and Felix so kindly.”

“It is simply my duty,” She smiled. “No need to thank me.”

“Have we met before?” He asked. From your perspective, you could see that he was feigning innocence, but you knew that he was just as curious about Flayn’s knowledge as you were. You couldn’t articulate any sound, so you just paid attention to them from your seat.

“That’s impossible!” She exclaimed with nervousness, but she calmed down instantly. “I lived in the west of the continent with my family until this year. I moved here a few months ago to live with my brother. Therefore, it’s impossible we have met before unless you’ve gone on a trip there.”

“That must be it!” Sylvain lied effortlessly. “Would Seteth happen to be your brother?” Flayn nodded. Sylvain continued. “That’s why you’re so familiar! He was our teacher in high school, and mentioned you a couple of times.” He turned to you, beckoning to help him with the conversation.

“Yes, Seteth cares about you deeply,” You added without any emotion. You gave Sylvain credit for being able to pull off ignorance so easily.

“I didn’t expect to find you here – you share his striking image.” Sylvain said nonchalantly with a wink. Of course.

“I see! Oh, you confused me for a moment,” She said sweetly, attempting to laugh off her alarm. “Now, I must go and get some supplies, so excuse me for a while. There are more sanitary personnel inside with Felix if you happen to have any questions.”  
  
You pondered to yourself for a fleeting second. Her speech patterns were peculiar. It was professional, yes, but it had a certain charm to it that other staff didn’t. You felt as though her and her politeness was speaking through a fairy tale. 

Flayn went away calmly and disappeared down the hall, quite pleased with herself. When you couldn’t see her, you groaned, burying your face in your hands while falling back on the chair.

“We’re fucked, Sylvain.” You uttered without regard if Flayn could hear you or not. Sylvain sat next to you again.

“I know this is a very insensitive thing to say, but I’m very happy that you’re freaking out. I feel less alone this way. It brings me comfort knowing we’re in this together.” He rubbed your back and you couldn’t help but laugh. What a mess you were in.

“What can we do now?” You asked him, as if he had all the answers in this world.

“I tried to ignore it, but it’s impossible.” He sounded defeated. “I feel like someone is controlling us and I hate it.”

“Then why don’t we investigate?” You suggested. Sylvain processed your words for a moment, then nodded slowly, agreeing. It seemed like the most logical step right then. He gave you a reassuring smile before moving on, moving his hand to pat your shoulder.

“Alright then. Let’s start with the library.”


	5. This Moment Lost In Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Sylvain bond over the things you share...
> 
> TW: BLOOD, game spoilers and felony (don't steal, kids)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!! It's been almost two months, sorry for that. I hope you enjoy this! I'm not really sure of where are we going with this but so far so good, right? I hope so. 
> 
> If you have any suggestion or anything, you can comment here or talk to me on tumblr (same username!). 
> 
> Big thank you to my Beta reader @Galamix! They are a big help and make this fic better with every edit!! <3<3<3

You put a hesitant foot in Sylvain’s room, walking right behind him as he guided you. It was an ample space and it had a window that let the sunshine inside in the morning. The decoration was quite simple. The bed, placed under the window, was covered in white linen, and the walls were bare, without any pictures or posters. Its appearance broke your every expectation of what you had thought his room would be like.

You were surprised you couldn’t find anything that screamed ‘Sylvain lives here’, or any hint at all of his renowned affairs. You chastised yourself for thinking he’d have a box filled with panties he had stolen, or obscene magazines thrown around. He was now a close friend – perhaps something more, but your brain was trying to avoid that subject at the moment – so you’d have to stop assuming things about him. Especially regarding the high number of misconceptions you’ve had about him. Yet the truth was that you would have never suspected that he lived in such an austere manner. You began to understand how he got along with Dimitri so well.

Despite the absence of luxuries, there was something that caught your eye: the quantity of books he owned. His desk and shelves were crammed, and there were even a few piles over the floor. You identified in a glance some history titles, as well as fiction and philosophical essays. It was quite the collection for someone most people considered an airhead – a thought that made you slightly angry at those people.

“Sit wherever you want,” Sylvain commented. You sat on the bed, while he moved to take a seat on the chair in front of his desk. He carefully placed on the floor a board of chess, trying not to move any pieces. It was incomplete, with only a handful of blacks and whites. You wondered if Sylvain was trying to solve one of those problems that he used to do with Claude back in high school. Afterwards, Sylvain placed his hands behind his head and leant back. You looked around nervous, absentmindedly caressing the bed dressing with your fingertips, avoiding by all means ogling him.

“You have a nice room,” you said. This was awkward, and you didn’t know what to say. You felt once again you were invading his privacy by simply being there. And you were on his bed, where he slept. It felt very personal, and you were not sure if it was your place to be there.

“Not what you expected for someone like me, right?”, he hummed. You feared that he actually was able to read your mind after that line.

“How is Glenn?”, you changed the subject, hoping Sylvain wouldn’t notice.

“Oh, he’s fine! He’s conscious and recovering. Apparently, when he was going to work, a dog crossed the road and he crashed the car avoiding it.” Sylvain drew out a breath. “Honestly, I’m so relieved he’s alive.”

“That gives us time to proceed with our plan. But then again, Flayn is onto whatever is happening. It’s not just paranoia, there must be a clue somewhere,” you reflected.

You had a few days to come to terms with Sylvain’s crazy theories after that encounter with Flayn at the hospital. As if fate had been mocking you, you had even more visions of your classmates in times of war, which only reinforced Sylvain’s words. You started writing down the smallest details you could recall, hoping they’d be of help to clarify something. Anything. And you realised some names kept appearing time after time.

“I wanted to show you a few things,” Sylvain said. He turned around to look at the books opened on his desk. He moved a couple of volumes and used papers around until he chose one. The sound of papers being flipped frantically came from behind you. “Here it is!”

He stood up and gave it to you, waiting a minute for you to inspect it thoroughly.

“So?” He insisted. Sylvain was eager to know your opinion. “What do you think?”

“It’s…” you opened your mouth.

“Awfully familiar?”, he offered.

“Yes”, you nodded.

It was an ancient copy of Seiros’ precepts. There you could see a coloured engraving that displayed Saint Seiros, who had an eerie resemblance to Rhea, officially in charge of Garreg Mach High School and the cathedral annexed to it. Her light green hair, her bright and big eyes, her figure. Everything was exactly the same. She had a serene countenance, and she was surrounded by dragons. Once, you were taught that they represented the strength of Seiros and the four saints, but they had so many details, they looked real.

“And that’s not the only thing!” Sylvain added before you could finish examining it. He passed you another book. “This one is Linhardt’s, but he lent it to me indefinitely. He knows a lot about Saint Cethleann, he’s investigating her figure and plans to do a PhD.”

“What am I looking for?”, you asked, tracing the index with your finger.

“Look at the pictures first. There are a couple of engravings and drawings. Just look at _any_.”

You did as he told you. A chill ran down your spine. 

“This is Flayn,” you babbled, totally astonished. “But, like, it’s _clearly_ Flayn.”

“Yes!” Sylvain was thrilled.

“They have the same face,” you repeated. You looked at the bottom of the page, where a footnote was written, and read it out loud. “‘ _Saint Cethleann was said to possess a kind heart and devoted her life to helping others in need. That’s why she developed an interest in medicine, and she is the patron saint of those who practice the art of healing. She healed countless wounded in her life, sparking the faith in those who met her._ ’ Is this real?” He nodded, an amused expression decorating his face. He seemed entertained by your reaction. “It looks like a set up.”

“It’s weird that all the pieces fit together as we go, right?”, Sylvain agreed. 

“If everything is so evident, why hasn’t anyone found out anything yet?”, you exclaimed exasperated.

“We’ve gone over that before,” he sat next to you on the bed. He crossed one of his legs and was careful not to touch you with any part of his body. After all, you were not the only one self-conscious about this meeting. He had been feeling vulnerable ever since he went all in with you – it was easy to recognise.

You wanted to tell him that it was okay to have physical contact and get close to you. And that you had similar feelings for him. But neither of you had said anything after his speech, and your conversations hadn’t got that way any other time. And now it seemed that you had lost your opportunity to give him an answer; it seemed forgotten and entombed.

“Yeah, yeah. Everyone has bigger problems. Except us, apparently”, you said ironically.

“I have plenty of problems”, he said with fake seriousness.

“Oh?”, you mocked him. “I’ve never noticed.”

“One of them is no one takes me seriously”, he smirked. You felt a pang of guilt on your stomach and averted your gaze towards the book. It was shameful to admit, but you had done it several times in the past. You didn’t know he resented it.

“I wanted to try something,” Sylvain said out loud, demanding your attention. He looked flushed, but you dismissed the thought.

That’s when you remembered his cryptic messages earlier.

 **Sylvain (13:25): I might have come up with a thing that can be useful** **😊** **.**

**Sylvain (13:25): Come home whenever you want, I’ll be here.**

He hadn’t texted you as regularly as he did during the previous days, thus when his icon popped up on the screen of your phone, your heart fluttered in your chest. Should you go right away? Should you wait? There were things unsaid between you, but you had been dying to spend time with your favourite redhead. You convinced yourself that curiosity was playing a big part in your decision, and not your own emotions, so immediately answered affirmatively to his proposition.

“Yes, you mentioned that before.” You looked at him in the eye. He was blushing, you had no doubts now. And it seemed that he was out of character, because who would have thought Sylvain would be ashamed at all flirting? “What’s wrong?”

“You might not like my methods,” he shrugged.

“Sylvain!” you sighed, annoyed. “We’re way past your mysterious phase! Just tell me!”

“No need to get mad, darling,” he laughed. Then, Sylvain coughed and recomposed himself. “I thought that maybe we could trigger memories so we can investigate them. Find a common pattern.”

“Okay.”

“What was the last thing you dreamt?” He inquired carefully. Sylvain knew that some dreams were… Unfavorable.

“That horrible nightmare where I bury an axe in your chest”, you said. It made you want to cry, just the mere mention of it. Such a brutal act, why would it have happened?

“Ah, yes. That one”, he made a disgusted gesture. “You could’ve picked a nicer one.”

“How are we going to trigger the memories?”, you questioned him.

“By touching,” Sylvain answered. You raised your eyebrows. “W-Wait, not in that way!”, he stuttered while waving his arms around, as if to clear the atmosphere. Hewas trying his best to correct his accidental innuendo. “We can hold our hands, or just bump our shoulders together? We don’t have to, of course, but–”

“Sylvain, relax. I don’t mind”, you took his hand in yours to downplay the issue. That warmth that had become familiar spread throughout your skin. “Besides, it’s a good idea. It’s worked before.”

“But it’s not working now,” Sylvain complained.

“What did you think that was going to happen? Fireworks and a narrated episode of the battle of Garreg Mach?” You mocked, while he simply smirked.

The situation made your heart fly. The light outside was fading, dying the room of orange and gold. Everything surrounding you belonged to Sylvain, and you were on his bed, holding his hand in yours. It was special. A great fluttery feeling was forming in your stomach, one that made you light in the head and giggly. You shifted your body around awkwardly, without changing your position, and his grip tightened.

You noticed the muscles in his arm flexing, and his palm becoming sweaty.

“It’s not working…”, Sylvain lamented again.

“Close your eyes. Let’s focus on that memory together,” you instructed, half hoping it would work, half hoping it would prevent him from releasing your hand.

You let your eyes close. Every sensation became sharper. His touch, his presence, his smell. Everything had a distinct scent, the detergent of his clothes, his cologne, his books. - ‘Put yourself together!’ you scolded yourself and tried to envision your memory instead of focusing on Sylvain.

The large field of Gronder; the confusion of bodies, some dead, some alive; the fresh blood; Sylvain’s horrid expression.

And, as if it was magic, it worked. You could vividly see it. The world surrounding you disappeared, and you were immersed in that moment lost in time.

The heat was suffocating, and so was the odour of burnt bodies and death. The podium where the archers had been trying to knock down the wyverns and pegasi had suddenly burned when the infantry had reached it. Many had died from all three parties: Dimitri’s, Edelgard’s and Claude’s. The flames were consuming everything on your left. Your arms stung out of tiredness, for you couldn’t even remember how long you had been there, fighting enemies.

Suddenly, you saw Sylvain. His horse was nowhere to be seen, and it saddened you. It was probably dead, too. A bad omen. You thought of the times he had insisted you rode with him, and the few times you accepted. Or when he stayed overtime to take care of the mount. You shook your head: he was now your enemy, and you had to kill him. Tears filled your eyes, and you voiced all the curses you could think of. How had everything turned into this? Where did it go wrong?

Sylvain was not aware that you were there. You traced his direction with your eyes. Was he escaping the fire? You hoped he was fleeing, but you knew him like the back of your hand. He had sworn loyalty to Dimitri and he wouldn’t leave him behind. Never. You looked far beyond.

When the realisation hit you, you started running.

He was heading towards Claude, who wasn’t riding his wyvern. Instead, he was supporting the infantry on the right flank with a sword and his bow. It was being effective in providing a much needed morale boost, but it wasn’t his brightest move. Damn him for not knowing how to keep himself safe.

Your gaze fell upon Byleth, who in this world had long hair, cuter clothes and was Jeralt’s daughter instead of his son. She had advanced more, leading the knights fighting the Adrestian forces, so she wasn’t going to save Claude, as she always did. Not this time, when she was risking her neck. You panicked, thinking about what disaster would happen if the heir to the Alliance, the only nation fighting actively against the Adrestian invasion, fell in battle.

You were almost there, axe in hand.

“Claude!”, you shouted. The Golden Deer leader realised Sylvain was about to stab him in the back, but dodged the hit just in time. Claude rolled on his side, while Sylvain’s lance got stuck in the ground.

You took advantage of this chance, arriving just a few seconds later, and with a swing of your weapon you broke the handle of his weapon in two. Moving with the momentum, your propelled the edge of the axe to Sylvain’s body. You contained your breath, wishing he would move away, that he’d escape. That you’d see him alive in the next battle, even if it meant going through another hell. Maybe you’d both survive, overcome your differences. But he didn’t move away. He stayed in place.

A lost arrow pierced your thigh. Even if you didn’t feel it at all thanks to the adrenaline pumping through your blood, it made you face reality.

Sylvain, disarmed, was on the other side of your weapon. You let go of the handle. It had cracked his armour, and his hot blood was flowing down. Sylvain fell to his knees, his face completely white.

“I’m sorry, Sylvain...” you said, as you fell backwards, unable to use your right leg due to the deep wound. He smiled but stayed completely still. Life was slowly escaping his body. You threw up on your side.

“Ignatz! Cover me!”, you heard Claude shouting. It seemed distant, while in reality he was too close. He was shouting your name, too, but your gaze was fixed on Sylvain. You couldn’t speak or move. Claude lifted you and placed you in his arms, carrying you somewhere safe. Sylvain was still alive, yet immobile. You couldn’t help thinking about him. Why was no one helping him? Is he going to die alone on the battlefield? Claude’s voice, assuring you that you were going to be alright, started to fade and his face was getting blurry…

* * *

“Are you okay!?” Sylvain was shaking your shoulder. You were laid down on his bed and he was above you.

“Yes”, you answered, eyes open wide. You got up, and you returned to the position you had been in before on Sylvain’s bed. “What happened?”

“You’ve been gone for 5 minutes. As in, eyes opened, not responding to anything. I was about to call an ambulance.” Sylvain inspected you closely, quite worried. You could sense his breath on your skin.

“I’m fine”, you whispered, still a bit disoriented and dizzy.

“Are you sure?”

You nodded.

“Sylvain,” you called his name, his hand still on your shoulder. “What happened after you killed me? Did you see that?” Why did you want to know?

“Ah, yes. Ferdinand killed me afterwards”, he groaned. “He was avenging your death…”

“Typical of him. I’ll make sure to thank him, though. It was very thoughtful,” you joked. “What about Claude? And Dimitri?”

“They were dead too. Fallen in combat,” he said with an unsure voice. “Edelgard was the one reigning after that, or so I’ve thought. It makes sense.”

“I recall professor Byleth there, behind me. He was fighting side by side with Edelgard. They must have won.” You agreed with a gesture. “What about when we married? Was Byleth there?”

“Yes. Next to Dimitri. I think they got married too. That time, the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus got the victory.” He crossed his arms, but his leg was touching yours. “What are you implying?”

“I killed you to protect Claude”, you started. The redhead knitted his brows.

“We already know that,” Sylvain commented, annoyed.

“Why are you so irritated?” You got confused why he was hasty upon mentioning Claude, until a certain thought crossed your mind. 

“No reason, just that the last thing I got to see was you in the arms of Claude.” He sighed. A smile found its way on your lips, an eyebrow raising.

“Are you jealous?” You teased him.

“Then, you got together with Claude after that. He commented something once about it,” Sylvain continued, ignoring your question. “Okay, keep going. What are you trying to say?”

“The war is between the three countries of the continent of Fódlan. And the respective leaders of each are, coincidentally, the leaders of each House at Garreg Mach – former monastery, currently a high school.” He nodded, prompting you to carry on. “When I killed you, Claude was the winner. The other countries fell and the Alliance took over. And Byleth was at his side. The same happened with Edelgard and Dimitri respectively, right? So that might indicate that Byleth is the deciding piece of the board. Depending on what side he-”, you remembered how Byleth had different appearances, “-He, she, or they pick, the events change and makes their side win the war and, ultimately, take control of Fódlan.”

“And how did that occur to you?”, he looked concerned. “It’s plausible. I’m not questioning you, but it’s quite twisted.”

“Because they are the only thing that actually changes in the war. Everything seems the same until Byleth arrives.”

“Well, you changed from Houses all the time,” Sylvain pointed out.

“Every time, to join Byleth’s class. Don’t you see it?” You tried to convince him.

“It seems logical to think that Byleth has something to do with it but we can’t be sure…”

“It’s a hunch, Sylvain,” you explained. “I’m sure we have to talk to Byleth. We will find something. This time, when I saw Byleth fighting, something clicked.”

Sylvain hugged you without a warning. He buried his head on the crook of your neck and enclosed you in his arms. Your hands rested against his chest, you trapped and unable to make a single move. The warmth surrounding you felt so warm, so comforting. Everything was going to be okay, Sylvain was there, and he won’t be gone this time.

“I’m scared that this will lead to a dead-end street. But… at last we’ve found a clue. I’ve been waiting for this forever…” He said with a strained tone. Sylvain’s voice was quiet. He didn’t want to let you go.

“It’s thanks to all your work, Sylvain. Everything you wrote was very useful…” You smiled, leaning into his embrace, almost melting. “You had noticed too Byleth was an important factor–”

“I’m just really happy you’re here with me. That you haven’t chosen Claude or Edelgard over me this time.” He chuckled, trying to shoo away the remainders of sadness. “Not gonna lie here, I’m extremely happy you didn’t choose Claude. That bastard.”

“Hey,” you reprimanded him. “Claude is nice. It’s not his fault we’re in this mess.”

“Well, he took you away from me once”, Sylvain said as he hugged you closer. “Have I told you that you married him?”

“What did you want me to do? You were dead!” You chuckled. It was weird to talk so lightly about it, but Sylvain became more comfortable the less relevant it felt. “This feels nice…”, you muttered, turning your face to kiss the top of his head. His red hair was soft, and it smelt of citrus. “So now we’re on hugging terms?”

“Yes”, Sylvain affirmed. “I might never let you go now that we crossed that line.”

“I wouldn’t mind…”

But a loud gasp resounded behind you. The tender moment that you wished would last forever was suddenly replaced with surprise.

“I’m so sorry Sylvain!” A voice shouted, someone that you identified as Dimitri. He closed the door with a slam.

Sylvain moved away, averting his eyes. His cheeks were blushing, and your own were warm too.

“I’m going to explain to Dimitri that we weren’t doing anything weird, okay?”, he scratched his head, again, and you recognised it as a gesture he made when he felt awkward. Little by little, you had been learning his non-verbal language. “I don’t want him traumatized for all his life.” You giggled.

“Does it make you nervous that Dimitri thinks we’re banging? He only saw us hugging,” You questioned daringly.

“Shut up”, he flashed his handsome smile. Flirting was an art he had mastered, and he felt confident with it. “And say that you’re staying for dinner, instead.”

“Not if you’re cooking instant noodles, Sylvain”, you narrowed your eyes. “That’s not a real dinner. You won’t trick me – I’ve seen all the packages in the cupboards.”

“First, we’re in college, and everything’s valid.” He stood up with a flourish. “Second, Dimitri had gone to the supermarket, so he’s the one cooking. It relaxes him.”

“Okay, he cooks real food. I’m staying then.”

“Perfect.” Sylvain winked, as he ran out of the room. His voice could be heard all over the apartment, and Dimitri was still stuttering. You smiled to yourself and took out your phone and opened the app to write an email.

**[From: YOU - To: beisner@gmuniversity.fe]**

**Dear Professor Eisner,**

**I hope everything is fine.**

**Sylvain Jose Gautier and I are having a few questions regarding the bibliography of our project. We’d like to meet you next week to settle the matter and discuss some work.**

**Thank you very much.**

* * *

“I’ve never skipped classes legally before”, commented Sylvain casually.

You two were navigating the corridors of the building where teachers had their offices. Everything was dull and generic, except for the occasional cabinets that displayed trophies and nameplates that students and professors had earned long ago.

“That’s why you were in detention all the time”, you reminded him.

“It was intentional. I wanted to strengthen my relationship with Seteth”, he said, laughing. You had to give in and laugh too, not only because he was actually funny, but because his humour was contagious. You couldn’t help but mirror it.

You eyed him from head to toe. Your companion was wearing a pair of black jeans and a white t-shirt. He had a dark-grey, almost black blazer with rolled up sleeves on due to the chilliness in the air. His attire rang a bell.

“Why are you dressing like we did in the Monastery?” You wondered out loud to him.

“Because I’m pretty hot in black and white”, Sylvain chuckled in delight with a deep and sexy tone. He was right. You could outline with a glance his body, which was pretty well built. Of course, you did everything you could to deny it, so you put on your best deadpan face. “Okay, okay. I think it might make Byleth nervous.”

“Now that’s a joke,” you remarked. “Byleth barely showed any emotion during a war. Do you think it takes so little to irk him?”

“You might be right,” he conceded.

“Here!” You grabbed Sylvain’s sleeve, bringing him back after he walked past the correct door.

“The nameplate says Dr. Gloucester. Do you need your eyes checked?” Sylvain emphasized.

“Dr. Gloucester retired, and they gave his office to Byleth. He told us the first day! What were you doing?”

“Okay, okay,” he rolled his light brown eyes. “You knock.”

“What are you? Five?” You said while hitting the door with your knuckles.

“Come in,” Byleth’s voice came from the interior of the office.

You opened the door to see your professor encircled by lots of papers. No one can escape bureaucracy.

You stopped in the middle of the room. Right then, you felt an extraordinary sense of existence. As if all the years that had passed before your adventures with Sylvain were but a mere dream and your consciousness had come back to you a few weeks ago. You were sure that Byleth’s presence was having its own influence on you, now that you had regained a good number of your forgotten memories. There was a strange energy in the atmosphere.

Now that you considered it, this was just like that sweet time you spent at Garreg Mach Monastery. Wandering around to avoid boredom with Sylvain and finding much more than just entertainment, following Byleth around to ask all kinds of questions, spending the big seasonal events with your friends… That was what happiness looked like to you.

“You can take a seat,” Byleth said.

“Ah, yes, thank you.” You muttered. Sylvain was next to you in those uncomfortable iron chairs your university loved buying.

“What can I help you with?” He asked, ever so willing to help, yet enigmatic.

“Ah, we have a basic bibliography for the Crescent Moon War, but we’re lacking a few good articles in Loog’s biography”, Sylvain started, replaying the topics you had agreed on. “We don’t know if the authors are reliable.”

“I can take a look at those names”, Byleth smiled. “And I have a few books you could use.”

“That’d be great!”, you cheered with a fake façade. You had to admit, it was quite fun to play spies.

“They’re on that bookcase”, your professor pointed at the one right on your side. You stood up and started looking around.

“I had a question on Klaus I, that king of Faerghus, as well. What was the role he played in…”, Sylvain asked, so serious and well versed in the matter.

You disconnected from the conversation, turning to read the titles on the wall. You took a thick, blue book filled with dust, pretending it caught your interest. Then another black volume, with leather covers and golden letters. You kept investigating, about the Almyran invasion; the formation of the Academy of Garreg Mach, the base of your own high school; history of the Adrestian Empire… Nothing past the year 1000. It was quite suspicious.

You turned around, and Byleth was drawing a diagram for a focused Sylvain, who was all nods and questions. They couldn’t see you anymore, or at least it seemed so. Out of the corner of your eye, on the closest end of the professor’s large mahogany desk, you saw a bunch of letters. Discreetly, you looked up the sender. Curly letters with the address of Rhea were written there, right from the Cathedral.

You made sure Byleth’s vision was blocked by a stack of folders. With decision and a steady hand, you took the most recent one and hid it under your clothes. Desperate situations call for desperate measures, right? Besides, it wasn’t exactly stealing, and you had already made an excuse. ‘It got misplaced when I took the books you lent me, professor,’ you heard yourself say in your head. 

“Is there anything else you need?” Byleth said, when his discussion with Sylvain was done. He clearly intended for you to leave, as it was getting late.

“No, we were going away now,” Sylvain confirmed, walking towards the door. You followed him. Yet you grew bold.

“Can I ask just one more thing?” You said to the professor right before exiting.

“Of course.” The man with the dark blue hair.

“I can’t seem to find how the Crescent Moon War influenced the later war of 1180,” you stated.

Byleth remained silent for a moment. His jaw tensed. Your heart pounded. Did you catch him?

“That’s because there wasn’t any war that year,” Byleth responded. His demeanour was calm and serious as ever. Had he been practicing?

“Oh, really?” You tried to sound candid, feigning surprise. “I’m really bad with dates! That must be it!”

“You might have confused a couple of battles with a war. The battle took place around that year, but there wasn’t any declaration of war made” Byleth declared with a tense smile.

“Sorry for the trouble!” You exclaimed at last, urging Sylvain to go out with your elbow.

You closed the door behind you, and walked fast to distance yourself from any of the offices.

“What was that?” Sylvain was shocked.

“Wait until we get out of here,” You begged.

* * *

Once you were on the common grounds of the student buildings, you stopped Sylvain. There was nobody around, as they were still in class. The ginger plopped himself on a bench.

“That was a good shot, but you were right”, he shrugged. “Byleth’s cold blood won’t make it easy. You were right, he’s special, I could feel a kind of connection… But we got nothing out of this…”

“I might have something”, you looked at him intently.

“On the books he gave you?”, he tilted his head. “Because I have revised all the library and –”

You took the opened letter out of your blouse. The silver details shone under the light.

“What the hell!”, Sylvain shouted. You shushed him, making desperate gestures with your arms to keep him from attracting any attention. You were paranoid, even though you were alone. Instead of any logical reaction, he had a fit of laughter.

“What?” You asked, irked.

“I thought you were physically incapable of anything remotely wrong in a moral sense!” He kept laughing, despite your attempts to quiet him down. “Why did you take it? Another hunch?”

“If you don’t get caught, you don’t get punished”, you said in a sarcastic tone.

“I knew it! You’re just as bad as me!” Sylvain was delighted.

“I might be,” You admitted because, well, he was right. Stealing the mail was a serious crime. But you took a small comfort in the pride and surprise Sylvain made you feel. You were no longer your dull, old self, that went on with the flow of events. No, you had a goal – multiple goals, in fact – and you were going to be an active participant in your life.

In that moment you wanted to kiss Sylvain again. But you had other priorities.

“Are we going to read this or not?” You dared him.

“Don’t ask me twice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So??? What did you think? ;) I hope the next chapter comes quicker! Will do my best. If you liked it, consider leaving a comment! Lots of love and have a great day (or night!)

**Author's Note:**

> So I binge-played Fire Emblem: Three Houses during summer and have been obsessed ever since. My favourite is a tie between Sylvain and Claude, so that must explain why he is so present on this fanfic. Also, he's here to give any kind of conflict! >:) Even if it's a fake conflict. Also I decided to give it a humorous tone - hopefully I haven't failed at that.  
> Why do I like Sylvain? Because he was the first one to join me since I got F!Byleth and well, he just stuck with me and I think that's beautiful. So he might seem and asshole here, and he is. He totally is. But he has his reasons! Which isn't an excuse but he'll make you up for it.  
> Well... I don't know what else to say. I hope you enjoyed! Comments are welcome as well as suggestions :)


End file.
